BY 

MAURICE- 
'HOMPSON 


VINCENNES" 


OF  CALIF.   LIBRAM,   LOS  MG 


THE  KING 

OF 

HONEY  ISLAND 


BY 

MAURICE  THOMPSON 

AUTHOR  OF 

"ALICE  OF  OLD  VINCENNES,"  ETC. 


G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT,  1892,  1893  and  1896, 
BY  BOBEBT  BONNEB'S  SONS. 


(AU,  rigKtt  reterved.) 


THE  NEW  YORK  LEDOCK, 
NEW  YORK. 


THE  KING  OF  HONEY  ISLAND, 


CHAPTER  I. 

SOME  INTRODUCTORY  ADVENTURES. 

ULES  VERNON  with  his  wife,  who 
was  much  younger  than  himself,  and 
his  only  child  Pauline  went  to  the 
Vernon  plantation  house,  or  Vernon 
Place,  as  it  was  called  at  Bay  Saint 
Louis,  to  spend  some  months.    There 
were    few  residents  on  that    wild, 
lonely  and  lovely  shore  in  those  days; 
for  our  story  begins  at  the  time  when 
war  with  England,  commonly  called 
the  War  of  1812,  was  at  its  high-tide. 
Why  Mr.  Vernon  had  sought  this  isolation  will  be 
disclosed,  perhaps,  in  due  time  ;  at  present  we  must 
be  content  to  know  him  with  only  such  a  glimpse  of 
his  character  and  motives  as  circumstances  permit. 
He  is  a  man  of  giant  stature  ;  and  his  face,  almost 


2133564 


8  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

covered  with  grizzly  beard,  wears  that  look  of  rugged 
strength  which  perfect  health  often  gives  to  the 
countenance  of  an  aged  man  whose  life  has  been 
spent  at  sea.  His  shoulders  are  square-set  and  pow- 
erful, his  head  large,  shaggy,  leonine,  his  arms  heavy 
and  muscular.  When  he  laughs,  there  is  a  sugges- 
tion of  sea-roar  in  his  voice — a  mellow  hoarseness 
not  unlike  the  beating  of  long  swells  on  a  reef. 

His  wife  is  a  bright,  clear-faced,  volatile  Creole, 
just  beginning  to  show  the  lines  of  age  in  her  pretty 
face,  albeit  her  hair  is  almost  snow-white. 

As  for  Pauline,  she  is  lovely,  a  girl  to  catch  the 
eye  and  heart  of  almost  any  man,  with  her  regular 
features,  her  expression  of  modest  simplicity,  lighted 
up  with  a  charming  vivacity,  her  plump,  supple  fig- 
ure and  her  luxuriance  of  shining  hair. 

Here  they  are,  these  three,  living  for  the  time  a 
life  of  utter  loneliness  in  a  large,  rudely  built  house, 
in  the  most  out-of-the-way  nook  to  be  found  on  the 
wild  gulf  coast. 

It  was  not  as  strange  as  it  seems  romantic,  that 
they  were  thus  isolated  ;  for  in  those  days  men  ven- 
tured without  fear  and  risked  everything  without 
hesitation. 

Mr.  Vernon  was  a  very  rich  man,  who,  since  he 
abandoned  sea-faring  life,  had  been  one  of  the 
chief  leaders  of  affairs  in  New  Orleans.  His  busi- 
ness relations  had  been  many  and  far-reaching. 
Perhaps  he  now  wished  to  get  rid  of  some  of  them, 
and  had  come  to  this  lonely  plantation  with  the 
hope  of  breaking  away  from  entanglements  which 
had  become  irksome  to  him. 


SOME    INTRODUCTORY    ADVENTURES.  tf 

But  it  is  impossible  in  this  life  to  know  just  how 
we  may  slip  away  from  disagreeable  entanglements, 
or  just  where  and  when  we  are  to  encounter  the 
persons  who  shall  cast  the  strongest  influences  into 
our  affairs. 

A  tall,  slender,  emaciated,  but  yet  seemingly  vig- 
orous old  man,  one  stormy  March  night,  sought  the 
hospitality  of  the  Vernon  household.  Of  course,  as 
was  the  old  Southern  custom,  they  took  him  in, 
although  his  actions  were  mysterious  to  the  point 
of  suggesting  a  doubt  as  to  his  sanity.  He  had 
crossed  the  bay  in  a  little  open  boat,  which  capsized 
with  him  near  the  shore  ;  and  when  he  entered  the 
house  it  was  evident  that  he  had  suffered  much. 
Next  morning  he  was  ill,  and  for  many  days  he 
seemed  at  the  point  of  death. 

In  this  extremity,  he  confided  his  life-secret  to 
Mr.  Vernon.  Simply  told  it  was  this  :  His  orphan 
grand-daughter,  a  sweet  and  beautiful  girl,  while 
yet  scarcely  more  than  a  mere  child,  had  been 
influenced  by  a  daring  young  scapegrace  to  elope 
with  him  and  become  his  wife.  This  was  in  Scot- 
land. The  old  man,  who  gave  his  name  as  Max 
Burns,  did  not  disclose  the  name  of  his  grand- 
daughter's abductor.  Perhaps  he  had  good  reasons 
for  keeping  it  a  secret  ;  but  he  went  on  to  tell 
a  touching  and  almost  incredible  story  of  how  he 
had  spent  many  years  and  a  large  fortune  in  trying 
to  find  and  in  some  way  take  back  his  wandering 
grandchild  Margaret.  The  young  man,  immedi- 
ately after  marrying  the  girl,  took  her  to  Italy, 
where  he  became  a  robber.  The  grandfather  fol- 


10  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

lowed  him,  only  to  find  that  he  had  fled  to  Spain. 
There,  too,  he  was  an  outlaw  ;  and  after  some 
years  of  picturesque  and  terrible  adventure,  he  was 
so  closely  pushed  by  the  authorities  that  he  left  the 
country  and  was  next  heard  of  in  San  Domingo. 
From  there,  at  length,  he  came  to  New  Orleans. 

All  this  time  Max  Burns,  who  was  a  Presbyterian 
preacher,  had  followed  him  as  best  he  could,  making 
every  effort  that  money  and  tireless  energy  could 
sustain  to  capture  the  man  and  regain  Margaret. 

And  now,  almost  penniless,  his  fortune  dissipated 
in  his  vain  endeavors,  his  health  badly  broken  and 
with  old  age  gripping  his  vitals,  he  was  once  more 
close  upon  the  object  of  his  long  and  apparently 
hopeless  quest. 

"  And  so,"  he  went  on  in  a  feeble,  panting  tone, 
"  just  as  I  can  almost  reach  him  it  seems  that  I  must 
die.  Oh,  Margaret,  Margaret !"  and  he  lay  gazing 
at  the  ceiling  as  if  in  prayer. 

The  story  was  so  strange  that,  told  under  the 
peculiar  and  pathetic  circumstances,  it  filled  the 
hearts  of  the  Vernon  household  with  inexpressible 
sadness. 

No  one  hearing  the  old  man  speak  could  doubt 
the  truth  of  what  he  said  ;  there  was  the  unmistak- 
able stamp  of  sincerity  and  deep,  absolutely  poig- 
nant feeling  on  every  word  as  it  came  from  his 
feeble  lips. 

But  contrary  to  every  probability,  Burns  got  well 
and  departed  as  mysteriously  as  he  came,  going  off 
on  foot  in  the  direction  of  the  Pearl  River  and 
Honey  Island,  a  region  which  at  that  time  was  the 


SOME   INTRODUCTORY   ADVENTURES.  11 

home  of  a  robber-band  the  most  desperate  and 
powerful  ever  known  in  our  country. 

The  old  saying  is  it  never  rains  but  pours.  Scarcely 
had  old  Max  Burns  gone  away  leaving  behind  him 
the  almost  weird  impression  of  his  strange  story 
and  of  his  mysterious  personality,  when  another 
wanderer  thrust  himself  into  the  life  of  the  Ver- 
nons  ;  and  this  time  it  was  a  young  man  of  distin- 
guished bearing,  handsome,  winning  and  withal  not 
devoid  of  most  that  goes  to  add  romance  to  char- 
acter. 

Pauline  had  been  out  to  the  cabin  of  one  Lapin, 
the  overseer  of  her  father's  slaves,  to  see  Lizette, 
the  overseer's  daughter,  who  had  been  ill.  Return- 
ing thence  on  horseback  and  followed  by  a  negro 
groom,  she  was  making  her  pony  gallop  briskly 
when  at  a  turn  in  the  path  he  suddenly  scared, 
whirled  about  and  flung  her  off. 

The  object  which  had  frightened  the  fiery  little 
animal  proved  to  be  an  easel  roughly  improvised  by 
an  artist  who  had  been  sketching  a  cluster  of  moss- 
hung  trees.  The  artist  himself  was  near  by,  and 
ran  to  Pauline's  assistance. 

The  fall,  though  hard,  had  rather  dazed  than  hurt 
the  astonished  girl,  and  before  she  fairly  realized 
what  had  happened,  she  found  herself  upborne  in 
the  arms  of  a  strange,  handsome  young  man,  who 
held  her  as  if  she  had  been  a  little  child. 

"  Are  you  hurt  ?"  he  inquired,  his  face  close  to 
hers,  his  eyes  tenderly  regarding  her. 

At  first  she  could  make  no  answer,  and  she  was 
too  weak  from  fright  to  struggle.  The  groom  has- 


12  THE  KINO   OF   HONEY   ISLAND, 

tened  to  the  spot ;  but  seeing  his  young  mistress  in 
the  possession  of  a  stalwart,  heavily  armed  white 
man,  was  afraid  to  say  a  word  or  move  a  hand. 
The  pony  freed  of  its  burden,  had  run  home  at  full 
speed,  and  the  thoroughly  frightened  negro  after 
glaring  a  moment  whipped  his  own  cob  and  rushed 
away  in  the  same  direction,  leaving  Pauline  a  help- 
less captive  in  the  clasp  of  her  rescuer. 

Mr.  Vernon  chanced  to  be  at  the  house  when  the 
groom,  wild-eyed  and  gasping,  arrived  with  his  but 
half-coherent  story  of  the  adventure. 

"  Pierre  Rameau  !"  he  hoarsely  cried  in  a  half- 
whisper.  "  Pierre  Rameau  done  got  Miss  Pauline  ! 
Oh,  de  good  Lor',  de  good  Lor',  Marse  Vernon  run 
dar  quick  !" 

Mr.  Vernon  did  not  need  to  be  twice  told.  He 
snatched  a  brace  of  heavy  pistols,  mounted  the 
groom's  horse  and  galloped  toward  the  scene  of 
the  tragedy. 

Pierre  Rameau  was  a  terrible  name  in  the  Gulf- 
coast  region  in  those  days,  more  terrible  even  than 
that  of  John  A.  Murrell  became  a  few  years  later. 
Indeed,  Rameau  was  reputed  to  be  the  leader  of  all 
the  robbers,  pirates  and  Creole  forbans  in  the  whole 
Southwest.  His  deeds  had  hung  a  fascinating  mist 
of  romance  about  him  which  appealed  to  the  imag- 
ination of  the  people. 

Little  wonder,  then,  that  Mr.  Vernon  felt,  as  he 
urged  the  clumsy  horse  along  the  vague  bridle  path 
under  the  trees,  a  terrible  whirl  of  mingling  and,  so 
to  say,  crashing  emotions.  His  daughter  was  his 
idol ;  he  worshiped  her  as  only  an  aged  man  can 


SOME   INTRODUCTORY    ADVENTURES.  13 

worship  an  only  child,  the  offspring  of  a  belated 
marriage. 

Pauline  in  the  hands  of  Pierre  Rameau  !  The 
thought  was  absolutely  unbearable,  and  yet  it  had 
to  be  borne,  at  least  for  a  few  minutes ;  and  the 
strain  upon  the  old  man's  feelings  showed  in  the 
swelling  veins  of  his  neck  and  forehead  as  he  leaned 
forward  over  his  horse's  shoulders  and  seemed  try- 
ing to  pierce  the  dark,  thick  woods  with  his  gaze. 

When  he  turned  a  sharp  curve  of  the  way  and 
looked  down  a  straight  stretch  between  heavy  live- 
oaks  and  under  gray  festoons  of  Spanish  moss,  he 
saw  something  which,  as  a  picture,  hung  ever  after 
in  his  memory. 

It  was  Pauline  walking  side  by  side  with  a  tall 
young  man,  who,  armed  like  a  brigand,  with  rifle 
and  pistols,  and  bearing  an  artist's  portfolio,  saun- 
tered with  the  careless  ease  aud  grace  of  one  at 
home  in  any  place.  The  two  seemed  quite  on 
good  terms  with  each  other,  and  were  coming 
toward  Mr.  Vernon,  who  checked  his  horse  in  time 
and  glowered  darkly  at  them. 

Pauline  ran  forward  to  meet  her  father,  her  face 
beaming. 

"  Papa,  this  gentleman  is  Mr.  Fairfax,  of  Virginia  ; 
when  my  pony  tnrew  me  a  moment  ago,  he  came 
to  my  aid."  She  spoke  rapidly  and  in  French. 
"  He  is  an  artist,  and  is  staying  at  Monsieur 
Vasseur's.  I  hope  you  will  thank  him  for  his  kind- 
ness to  me." 

The  young  man  came  up  just  then,  and  Mr. 
Vernon  bent  upon  him  a  steady,  searching  look. 


14  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

"  Are  you  Mr.  Burton  Fairfax,  sir  ?"  he  demanded, 
putting  away  the  pistol  that  he  had  been  holding 
for  deadly  use. 

"Yes,  sir."  Evidently  the  young  man  was  sur- 
prised. His  face  showed  it. 

"  The  negro  told  me  that  a  robber  had  caught  my 
daughter,  so  I  was  scarcely  prepared  to  see  the  son 
of  my  old  friend,  Colonel  Stirling  Fairfax." 

Mr.  Vernon  had  regained  perfect  composure,  and 
was  now  smiling  kindly. 

"  You  knew  my  father  ?"  inquired  Fairfax. 

"  Many,  many  years  ago,  in  England.  We  were 
the  best  of  friends,  and  I  am  proud  now  to  see  his 
son  and  to  thank  him  for  his  gallant  kindness  to  my 
daughter." 

"You  give  me  the  deepest  pleasure,"  Fairfax 
said,  the  strangeness  of  the  situation  preventing  a 
clear  understanding  of  it. 

"  Your  mother  was  a  Burton,"  Mr.  Vernon  went 
on.  He  dismounted  and  took  the  young  man's 
hand.  "  Fine  old  families,  the  Burtons  and  the 
Fairfaxes — fine  old  families.  Glad  to  take  your 
hand,  sir." 

Pauline  stood  by,  looking  on.  It  was  a  picturesque 
group,  and  evidently  the  young  girl  felt  deeply  the 
romance  of  the  occasion.  Her  feelings  heightened 
her  beauty. 

Mr.  Vernon  pressed  the  young  man  to  go  to  Ver- 
non Place,  and  the  three  walked  thither  along  the 
woodland  road,  the  horse  following  after  them. 

When  they  reached  the  house,  the  two  gentlemen 
were  quite  like  old  acquaintances.  Mrs.  Vernon 


SOME    INTRODUCTORY   ADVENTURES.  15 

was  glad  to  see  the  son  of  her  husband's  old  friend, 
and  thus  Fairfax  found  himself  the  center  of  charm- 
ing- attentions. 

It  was  like  a  leaf  from  some  old  romance,  like 
being  cast  into  a  nook  where  the  poetry  of  life  still 
survived  and  where  scarcely  a  ripple  of  the  new 
order  of  things  was  ever  heard. 

Rich,  fatherless,  motherless,  without  a  tie  to  bind 
him  to  any  spot,  the  young  man,  after  much  travel 
and  many  adventures,  had  come  to  New  Orleans, 
whence,  in  search  of  whatever  was  new  or  sketch- 
able,  he  pressed  on  into  the  wilderness,  and  finally 
found  his  way  to  the  lonely  shore  of  Bay  Saint 
Louis,  where  he  was  glad  to  make  his  home  for  a 
time  with  a  queer  little  fellow,  Vasseur  by  name,  in 
a  rambling  old  backwoods  house  overlooking  the 
beautiful  water. 

Vasseur  was  an  enigma  to  the  young  adventurer 
and  as  such  very  interesting.  He  was  very  dark, 
could  speak  English,  but  brokenly,  and  in  many 
ways  his  actions  suggested  a  past  life  not  above  out- 
lawry. Indeed,  in  those  days  it  was  safe  to  assume 
that  every  man  in  all  that  remote  region,  whose 
character  and  antecedents  were  not  known,  was  a 
refugee  from  justice  of  a  lurking  predatory  mis- 
creant of  one  class  or  another. 

All  the  furniture  and  belongings  of  Vasseur's 
house  hinted  at  plunder ;  all  of  the  man's  actions 
had  about  them  an  atmosphere  of  furtiveness. 

To  pass  suddenly  from  such  surroundings  into 
the  charming  circle  of  the  Vernon  household  was  a 


16  THE  KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

change  which  gave  emphasis  to  the  effect,  and  it 
caught  the  young  man's  imagination  at  once. 

And  how  was  it  with  Pauline  ? 

A  young  girl  under  such  circumstances  does  not 
analyze  her  feelings,  and  who  shall  do  it  for  her  ? 

She  sat  in  the  spacious  room,  and  instinctively 
her  chair  was  drawn  close  to  her  mother.  Her 
heart  was  full  of  vague  happiness,  and  any  observer 
could  have  seen  that  she  was  quite  unconscious  of 
her  beauty.  Her  expression  was  all  attention,  for 
every  faculty  of  her  nature  had  assumed  a  recep- 
tive attitude  ;  and  while  Mr.  Vernon  and  Burton 
Fairfax  discussed  the  ancient  social  relations  of  the 
Vernons,  the  Fairfaxes  and  tho  Burtons,  she  found 
a  most  satisfying  pleasure  in  the  details,  although  it 
would  have  been  quite  impossible  for  to  explain 
why. 

Fairfax  gladly  accepted  an  invitation  to  take 
luncheon  at  Vernon  Place  ;  indeed,  it  required  a 
little  heroism  on  his  part  to  refuse  Mr.  Vernon's 
urgent  request  that  he  remain  in  the  house  during 
the  rest  of  his  sojourn  on  the  bay  shore  ;  especially 
hard  was  it  to  hold  out  against  the  hospitable 
insistence  of  the  ladies,  who,  in  the  good  old 
Southern  style,  joined  in  pressing  him  to  stay.  As 
it  was,  he  took  his  departure  late  in  the  afternoon  ; 
but  Vasseur's  was  not  so  far  away  that  he  could  not 
come  back  every  day  if  he  saw  fit. 

If  he  saw  fit  !  Did  a  young  man  ever  fail  to  see 
fit  to  go  back  under  such  circumstances  ?  Vernon 
Place  was  better  in  every  way  than  Vasseur's  ;  Mr. 
Vernon  was  a  more  interesting  man  than  Vasseur  ; 


SOME   INTRODUCTORY   ADVENTURES.  17 

Mrs.  Vernon  was  a  charming  woman  ;  and  Pauline 
— certainly  Pauline  was  lovely,  even  if  she  did  not 
talk  much. 

The  young  man  left  a  very  pleasant  impression 
in  the  household.  So  pleasant,  indeed,  that  it  wiped 
out  for  the  time  all  memory  of  the  old  wanderer 
who  so  lately  had  occupied  almost  their  entire 
thought. 

Pauline,  after  bidding  good-by  to  Fairfax,  ran  to 
her  own  room  and  watched  him  go  away.  He  had 
put  on  again  his  belt  and  pistols,  his  pouch  of 
drawing-materials  and  his  broad  hat.  The  rifle 
across  his  shoulder  gleamed  bravely  in  the  sunlight. 

We  could  but  laugh  at  such  a  display  of  weapons 
in  our  day  ;  but  then  it  was  different.  The  wonder 
is  that  a  man  could  feel  quite  safe  even  when  thus 
apparently  over-armed. 

To  Pauline  there  was  no  suggestion  of  the 
bravado  of  mere  outward  pretense  in  the  appear- 
ance of  Fairfax,  nor  ought  there  to  have  been.  The 
times  were  tragic  enough.  War  between  the  United 
States  and  Great  Britain  was  already  progressing  in 
the  North  and  at  any  moment  might  be  transferred 
to  the  Gulf  coast.  Not  only  this,  but  all  the  law- 
less men  of  the  remote  and  to  a  degree  unprotected 
regions  were  taking  advantage  of  the  disturbed 
state  of  things  to  redouble  their  defiance  of  local 
authority.  The  spirit  of  violence  was  in  the  air,  and 
an  unarmed  man  was  an  exception  to  a  prevailing 
rule. 

The  vivid  imagination  of  Pauline  Vernon  caught 
an  impression  from  the  young  man's  showy  arma- 


18  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

ment  quite  different  from  what  such  a  vision  would 
produce  in  the  mind  of  a  bright  girl  of  our  day. 
To  her  came  a  thrill  of  the  romance  in  the  midst  of 
which  she  was  living.  She  was  not  self-conscious 
enough  or  sufficiently  trained  in  self-analysis  to  be 
aware  of  the  source  from  which  the  glamour  came  ; 
but  she  felt  her  right  to  enjoy  to  the  full  the  deep 
and  rich  though  elusive  charm  of  the  moment. 

She  watched  the  young  man  until  he  passed  out 
of  sight,  then  closed  her  eyes,  the  simple-hearted 
maiden  that  she  was,  as  if  she  could  thus  shut  in 
forever  the  fascinating  picture. 


CHAPTER   II. 

VASSEUR    AND    HIS    JEWELS. 

As  Fairfax  walked  back  toward  Vasseur's,  he  was 
filled  with  a  sense  of  indescribable  satisfaction. 
The  whole  world  just  then  was,  so  far  as  his  feelings 
went,  condensed  so  that  all  its  essential  delights 
were  pressed  together  in  this  lonely  nook,  as  flower 
petals  are  sometimes  pressed  into  a. potpourri. 

He  was  old  enough  and  certainly  stalwart  enough 
to  be  a  man — his  age  was  twenty-six — but  just  now  he 
sauntered  and  smiled  like  a  great  pleased  boy.  His 
latest  adventure  had  been  of  a  sort  to  dash  into  his 
experience  a  good  strong  element  of  the  tender 
strain  of  romance  so  dear  to  young  men. 

Who  doesn't  like  mystery  and  lovely  girls  ?  Cer- 
tainly Fairfax  did  not  hesitate  to  acknowledge  to 
himself  that  he  was  fascinated,  not  alone  by  the 
beauty  and  sweetness  of  Pauline,  but  as  well  by  the 
air  of  mystery  which  seemed  to  envelop  in  a  way 
the  Vernon  family. 

How  did  Mr.  Vernon  know  that  he  was  the  son  of 
the  late  Col.  Stirling  Fairfax  ?  Of  course,  our 
young  friend  was  not  aware  of  the  means  of  knowl- 

[«9J 


20  THE   KING    OF    HONEY    ISLAND. 

edge  sometimes  possessed  by  a  man  whose  wealth 
and  peculiar  influence  control  far-reaching  and 
comprehensive  combinations  of  force  and  intelli- 
gence. 

From  Mr.  Vernon  he  had  heard  the  story  of  old 
Burns,  the  preacher,  and  that,  too,  was  adding  its 
thrill  of  strangeness  and  pathos  to  his  reflections. 

But  most  of  all,  he  thought  of  Pauline.  Her 
beauty  of  form  and  face  had  captivated  him,  and  the 
sound  of  her  voice  was  yet  echoing  through  his 
heart  with  a  certain  timbre  which  no  other  voice 
ever  had.  She  had  touched  his  hand,  and  that 
touch  was  there  yet,  continuing  its  delicate  thrill. 
A  breath  of  violet  perfume,  perhaps  from  a  cluster 
of  the  blooms  on  her  bosom,  lingered  in  his  nostrils. 
Moreover,  he  felt  the  exhiliration  which  comes  but 
once  in  any  lifetime — that  waft  of  nameless  and 
almost  meaningless  delight  in  oneself  because  of 
one's  mere  knowledge  of  another's  existence. 

It  was  pasit  sundown  when  he  reached  Vasseur's, 
and  he  heard  the  mocking-birds  fluting  tenderly  in 
the  magnolias  as  he  entered  the  low,  oddly  construct- 
ed house.  A  little  way  off,  the  sea  was  pounding  on 
the  beach  with  a  heavy  throbbing  and  swashing. 

Vasseur  himself  met  him  at  the  door. 

"Mo'sieu  has  had  a  good  day,  I  hope,"  the  little 
creole  said,  in  his  soft,  insinuating  voice.  "  It  vare 
fine  wetter  zis  day." 

Fairfax  looked  down  at  him  with  a  comprehensive 
smile,  but  only  nodded  a  response.  He  flung  aside 
his  burden  of  implements  and  weapons. 

"  Mosieu  is  vare    'ungry,  is  it  not  ?    Suppaire  it 


YASSETJR   AND    HIS   JEWELS.  21 

come  soon,"  Vasseur  went  on,  rubbing  his  brown 
little  hands  together  and  grimacing  violently. 

"  No ;  I  dined  late  and  well,"  said  Fairfax,  in 
French.  "I  am  not  at  all  hungry." 

It  was  one  of  Vasseur's  hobbies  to  speak  English. 
He  pretended  to  fancy  himself  quite  at  home  in 
that  language. 

Fairfax  had  become  sincerely  fond  of  the  little 
dark  man,  whose  restless  eyes,  bushy,  black  hair 
and  singularly  mobile  mouth  in  some  way  reminded 
him  of  the  descriptions  he  had  read  of  certain  fas- 
cinating outlaws  famous  in  Martinique — men  of 
half  or  quarter  breed,  at  once  gentle,  soft-voiced 
and  murderous,  who  would  die  for  you  one  day  and 
rob  you  the  next. 

Vasseur  looked  no  particular  age.  He  was  fifty, 
perhaps,  though  not  a  gray  hair  or  a  wrinkle  pro- 
claimed the  years.  A  long,  narrow  forehead, 
slender  black  brows,  deep-set  black  eyes,  a  high 
straight  nose,  a  mouth  small  and  expressive  and  a 
protruding  chin  made  his  face  one  to  be  remem- 
bered. In  stature  he  was  below  the  medium,  but 
he  was  strong,  tough,  supple,  restlessly  active.  It 
would  seem  contradictory  to  add  that  Vasseur's 
general  air  was  that  of  extreme  indolence,  but  such 
a  contradiction  existed  in  the  man's  make-up.  He 
was  not  indolent,  and  yet  his  greatest  activity  was 
seen  through  an  atmosphere  of  languor  and 
indifference. 

Fairfax  found  Vasseur's  house  a  delightful  lodge. 
It  was  built  of  pine  logs  and  covered  with  long, 
rough  boards  ;  its  rooms,  large  and  airy,  were  yet 


22  THE   KING   OF    HONEY   ISLAND. 

huddled  in  appearance,  and  seemed  to  have  no 
system  in  their  arrangement.  The  floors — there 
was  but  one  story — were  of  dried  mortar,  smooth 
and  even,  and  the  walls  were  hung  with  a  great 
variety  of  dressed  skins,  while  the  chairs  and  tables, 
the  bedsteads  and  the  armoires  were  of  every  grade  of 
finish,  from  a  rude  stool  to  the  most  exquisitely 
carved  piece  in  mahogany.  It  was  plain  that  this 
heterogeneous  furniture  had  been  obtained,  piece 
by  piece,  in  the  course  of  a  life  devoted  to  snatch- 
ing treasures  from  the  sea  ;  flotsam  and  jetsam  had 
found  their  way  into  the  house  of  the  Creole  ;  and 
the  mishaps  of  others  had  in  this  degree,  at  least, 
contributed  to  his  enrichment.  The  reputation  of 
having  once  been  a  pirate  clung  to  Vasseur,  though 
he  stoutly  denied  it.  But  how  came  he  by  all  the 
odd  and  valuable  things  in  his  possession,  espec- 
ially the  precious  stones  ?  These  latter  he  had 
shown  to  Fairfax — diamonds,  rubies,  emeralds, 
topazes,  sapphires,  opals,  amethysts — hundreds  of 
them,  none  of  the  more  precious  ones  large  or  very 
valuable  ;  but  still,  in  the  aggregate,  the  lot  was 
worth  quite  a  pretty  sum.  One  amethyst,  however, 
was  remarkably  large  and  beautiful,  and  had  been 
cut  to  the  form  of  a  cross  ;  the  workmanship  showed 
that  a  master  hand  had  done  it,  and  the  color  of  the 
stone,  almost  a  sapphire  blue,  was  exquisite,  clear 
as  a  summer  sky  and  as  transparent  as  the  purest 
water. 

If  Vasseur  loved  anything  with  passionate  stead- 
fastness, it  was  this  treasure  of  jewels,  and  above 
all,  the  amethyst  cross  was  prized — nay,  indeed  it 


VASSEUK   AND   HIS   JEWELS.  23 

was  worshiped.  This  he  kept  separate,  inclosed  in 
a  much-soiled  but  sound  old  leather  case,  which  he 
carried  in  an  inside  pocket  of  his  waistcoat. 

It  amused  Fairfax  to  encourage  the  man  in  his 
raptures  over  the  beautiful  stone  cross ;  and,  like 
any  other  man  with  a  hobby,  Vasseur  was  delighted 
to  find  an  appreciative  listener,  while  he  expatiated 
on  the  merits  of  his  property  :  but  when  Fairfax 
demanded  the  gem's  history,  its  owner  suddenly 
became  confused  for  a  moment  and  had  some  trou- 
ble to  resume  his  air  of  half-jaunty  indifference. 

Of  course,  this  was  not  surprising ;  it  only  led 
Fairfax  to  suspect  that  there  was  a  good  deal  of 
truth  in  the  rumor  about  Vasseur's  antecedents. 
The  man  said  that  he  bought  the  cross  in  Seville  ; 
but  Fairfax  thought  he  saw  that  it  was  not  a  very 
clear  lie  that  he  was  telling. 

That  night  something  happened  which  caused 
Vasseur's  jewels,  and  especially  the  amethyst  cross, 
to  enter  as  an  important  factor  into  the  body  of  our 
story 


CHAPTER    IIL 

THE  CAVALIERS. 

At  the  time  of  which  we  write,  there  was  a  road, 
or,  more  correctly  speaking,  a  trail,  leading  from  the 
west  shore  of  the  bay  of  Saint  Louis  in  a  direction 
somewhat  west  of  north  through  a  wild  country  to 
the  wilder  region  of  the  upper  Pearl  River.  This 
trail,  which  was  known  as  the  Black-wolf  Trail,  had 
been  a  highway  for  the  Indians  as  far  back  as  tradi- 
tion went — a  road  which  led  from  their  hunting- 
grounds  to  the  breezy  bluffs  of  the  gulf,  where  they 
spent  the  hot  season,  like  the  philosophers  that 
they  were,  in  bathing,  fishing,  eating  and  smoking. 

Since  the  coming  of  the  white  men,  the  Black- 
wolf  Trail  had  been  put  to  other  uses.  Soldiers, 
horses  and  cannon  had  followed  it ;  caravans  of 
settlers,  with  their  oxen,  their  mules,  their  slaves 
and  their  household  appliances,  had  made  it  the  road 
to  new  homes  and  a  life  of  hardy  and  lordly  inde- 
pendence. 

Large  plantations  were  opened  and  comfortable, 

even  spacious  and,  in   a  degree,  luxurious  houses 

built  on  the  beautiful  and  fertile  lands  once  tilled 

by  the  aborigines,  whose  descendants  still  skulked 

[24] 


THE   CAVALIERS.  25 

in  the  swamps  and  held  the  fastnesses  of  cane-brake 
and  cypress-jungle  all  around  the  coast. 

Many  other  trails,  less  distinct  and  more  meander- 
ing, came  into  the  Black-wolf  Trail  on  its  way 
from  the  highlands  to  the  coast,  and  he  was  an 
alert  and  experienced  woodman  who  could  go 
among  these  crossing  and  apparently  entangled 
paths  without  bewilderment. 

In  those  days,  all  of  the  ways  of  the  woods  were 
ways  of  danger  ;  for  not  only  were  the  Indians 
treacherous  and  savage  in  the  extreme,  there  were 
white  men  more  to  be  feared  than  the  red  ones  ; 
reckless  knights  of  adventure  devoted  to  a  life  of 
titter  lawlessness — bold  riders  whose  dashing  ex- 
ploits would  have  been  themes  of  song  and  story  if 
done  some  centuries  earlier — Claude  Duvals,  Robin 
Hoods,  Wolfstanes  of  the  new  land,  all  seeking  the 
excitement  of  desperate  emprise,  and  all  defying 
every  word  and  letter  of  law,  human  or  divine. 

The  wood-paths  were  know  to  these  men  as 
familiarly  as  the  cow-paths  of  his  father's  farm  are 
known  to  the  country  lad  to-day  in  the  same  region. 
Singly  or  in  small  parties,  these  self-reliant  free- 
booters rode  beneath  the  pines  and  the  wide-spread- 
ing oaks  ;  the  wary  Indian  heard  their  horses'  feet 
beating  the  yellow  sand  and  their  careless  songs 
echoing  through  the  brakes.  It  was  not  for  the  red 
man  to  attack  the  outlaws ;  a  sort  of  bond  held 
between  them,  both  being  enemies  to  the  settlers. 
Moreover,  the  Indians  feared  the  "  riders,"  as 
they  named  them,  and  were  glad  to  slink  away 


26  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

whenever  those  picturesque  cavaliers  made  their 
appearance. 

Most  of  the  "  riders  "  made  pretense  of  being 
traders,  buyers  of  cattle,  furs,  skins,  cotton,  negroes 
— anything,  indeed  ;  and  sometimes  they  did  buy, 
when  buying  seemed  safer  than  taking  by  force  ; 
but  robbery  in  one  form  or  another  was  their  main 
business. 

Their  operations  extended  over  a  wide  area,  and 
included  all  manner  of  theft  and  robbery,  from  the 
"  holding  up  "  of  a  traveller  to  the  forcible  seizure 
of  slaves,  cattle  and  other  property  on  the  planta- 
tions from  Georgia  to  Louisiana. 

Pearl  River,  as  far  up  as  Honey  Island,  afforded 
a  waterway  by  which  vessels  of  considerable  draft 
could  be  used  to  bear  the  plunder  of  the  cavaliers 
to  New  Orleans,  by  way  of  the  Rigolets  and  Lake 
Pontchartrain  ;  and  the  "  traders  "  who  managed 
these  vessels  shared  in  the  rich  profits.  Indeed,  no 
small  part  of  the  traffic  of  the  city  at  that  time 
came  from  this  and  somewhat  similar  sources.  With 
the  Lafittes,  the  de  Jourdains  and  the  Mascots  on 
one  side,  and  the  confreres  of  Pierre  Rameau  on  the 
other  side,  New  Orleans  was  fed  by  constant 
streams  of  ill-gotten  wealth. 

As  for  Rameau  and  his  immediate  associates, 
they  preferred,  for  prudential  reasons,  to  do  most  of 
their  boldest  and  most  remunerative  work  at  a 
long  distance  from  their  headquarters  ;  wherefore, 
a  greater  part  of  the  booty,  especially  stolen  slaves, 
shipped  down  Pearl  River  came  from  Alabama, 
Georgia,  Tennessee,  and  even  as  far  away  as  the 


THE   CAVALIERS.  27 

Carolinas,  while  in  the  country  round  about  Honey 
Island,  within  a  radius  of  fifty  or  sixty  miles,  people 
and  their  property  were  not  molested  to  any  great 
degree.  It  was  this  policy,  enforced  by  Rameau, 
which  had  so  long  protected  him  and  his  followers  ; 
for  while  common  rumor  established  him  as  king  of 
the  island,  and  kept  afloat  startling  stories  of  his 
prowess  and  daring,  almost  nothing  had  been  done 
toward  investigating  the  situation.  The  main  fact 
was  that  wealthy  and  influential  men  in  New 
Orleans,  large  sharers  in  the  unholy  revenues,  were 
standing  behind  the  outlaws  and  affording  them  the 
protection  which  it  was  so  easy  to  give  so  long  as 
the  power  of  the  civil  and  military  government  was 
almost  paralyzed  in  Louisiana,  and  so  long  as  these 
very  citizens  controlled  directly  or  indirectly  the 
government  itself,  either  by  corrupting  the  officials 
or  by  holding  official  positions  themselves. 

With  a  glance  at  the  foregoing  slight  sketch  of 
the  situation  of  things  in  the  Gulf-coast  region,  the 
readers  of  this  story,  which,  in  all  its  parts,  is  his- 
torically true,  will  be  able  to  understand  why  a 
party  of  horsemen  should  be  following  the  Black- 
wolf  Trail  in  the  direction  of  the  bay  of  Saint  Louis 
at  a  late  hour  in  the  night.  The  road  in  most 
places  was  wide  enough  for  two  of  the  cavaliers  to 
go  side  by  side,  and  four  of  them  chatted  as  they 
rode,  while  the  fifth,  who  evidently  was  the  leader, 
held  his  way  somewhat  in  advance,  sitting  on  his 
horse  like  a  statue,  and  maintaining  a  strict  and 
apparently  moody  silence. 

Seen  in  the  deep  gloom  of  the  wood,  the  moving 


28  THE   KING   OF    HONEY   ISLAND. 

figures  were  more  like  shadows  than  realities,  and 
but  for  the  heavy  tramp  of  the  horses  and  the  occa- 
sional sharp  jingle  of  a  spur  or  the  clink  of  a  bridle- 
bit,  they  might  have  been  regarded  by  a  superstic- 
ious  fancy  as  ghosts  of  the  followers  of  De  Soto  or 
Bienville.  Their  voices,  however,  were  evidently 
real,  and  what  they  were  saying  referred  to  the 
present. 

"  The  king  is  breaking  his  own  law  to-night,"  said 
one  to  another,  "  and  I  don't  expect  anything  out 
of  it  that'll  pay  for  the  trouble.  What  have  these 
people  down  here  got  that  's  worth  going  after  ? 
We  can't  take  their  niggers,  for  they'd  be  known, 
and  I  don't  expect  much  money." 

"You  might  wager  your  head,"  remarked  the 
other,  "  that  the  king  knows  what  he  is  about. 
When  did  he  ever  fail  to  do  just  what  he  wanted  to  ? 
There  's  more  'n  we  dream  of  at  the  end  of  this 
ride." 

"  Maybe  so  ;  I  don't  say  there  ain't  ;  but  it  's  a 
queer  move,  you  must  say  that." 

"  All  of  our  moves  are  queer  enough,  for  that 
matter." 

"  Yes,  but—" 

"But — but — what  's  the  use  of  yer  '  buts  ?'  Yer 
a  constitutional  grumbler,  Tom  Newkirk — a  cronic, 
incurable  growler." 

"  Mebbe  so,  but—" 

"  Oh,  grumble  at  my  foot,  my  head  aches  !" 

At  this  point  the  last  speaker  burst  forth  singing- 
in  a  low  mellow  voice  an  old  and  not  very  elegant 
ditty  about  a  maid  who — 


THE   CAVALIERS.  29 

"  Went  away,  went  a-wa-y — 
With  her  love  to  a  fair  countrie." 

He  had  reached  what  was  perhaps  the  last  stanza 
and  was  droning  out  the  fact  that — 

"  Her  lover  was  false  and  cold  was  his  heart, 
And  she  died  by  his  cruel  hand," 

when  the  leader  suddenly  exclaimed  in  a  tone  that 
indicated  irritation  : 

"  I'm  tired  of  that.  Stop  it !  This  is  no  time  for 
your  songs." 

The  singer  obeyed  promptly  ;  but  could  not 
refrain  from  muttering  under  his  breath  : 

"  Devilish  particular  all  at  once  ;  must  be  ailing  !" 

"  Who's  got  the  grumbles  now  ?"  said  his  com- 
panion, tauntingly.  "  Told  you  that  something 
queer  was  at  the  bottom  of  this  here  move." 

"  Humph  !  I'll  admit  that  when  the  king  gets  so 
particular  that  he  won't  let  a  fellow  sing,  there 
must  be  something  kind  o'  bilious  on  hand." 

The  country  through  which  the  little  cavalcade 
was  passing  is  to-day  almost  as  wild  as  ever ;  the 
forests  have  retaken  many  of  the  old-time  planta- 
tions, and  one  may  follow  trials  like  that  of  the 
Black- wolf  for  miles  in  every  direction  under  trim 
pines  and  moss-hung  oaks  apparently  hoary  with 
age.  At  that  time,  however,  the  trees  were  old  in 
reality,  and  the  way  led  through  jungles  where 
wolves  yelled  and  snarled  and  panthers  screamed 
back  and  forth  to  one  another  from  thicket  to 
thicket.  Here  and  there  the  horses'  feet  plashed 


30  THE    KING    OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

the  darkling1  ponds  and  bayous,  while  the  booming 
and  the  wallowing  of  the  alligators  made  the  night 
hideous.  Overhead  the  giant  tracery  of  gnarled 
and  knotted  boughs  and  the  finer  outlines  of  leaves, 
fronds  and  sprays  seemed  wrought  by  some  dusky 
magic  on  the  starry,  cloudless  blue  of  the  sky.  The 
boles  of  the  great  trees  arose,  solid  and  firmly  but- 
tressed, steadfast  as  columns  of  stone,  and  appeared 
to  support  the  vast  spangled  arch  of  night.  On 
high,  a  gentle  breeze  rustled  ;  the  dew,  cool  and 
fragrant,  hung  upon  everything,  and  there  was  a 
suggestion  of  fruit  in  all  the  wandering  perfumes 
that  came  from  groves  of  haw  and  wild  apple, 
tangled  berry-vines  and  flowering  festoons  of  grape. 

At  a  certain  place  at  the  edge  of  a  marsh,  over 
which  there  came  a  sharp  tingle  of  salt  air  and  a 
far  away  boom  of  sea-water,  the  leader  of  the  cava- 
liers drew  up  his  horse  and  called  the  others  around 
him,  so  that  his  strikingly  tall  and  shapely  figure 
made  the  center  of  a  dark  group  sketched  against 
the  marsh  rushes  and  the  shining  line  of  the  bay. 

"  What  is  done  to-night,"  he  said,  "  is  between  us  ; 
not  another  soul  upon  earth  is  ever  to  know  even  a 
hint  of  it.  I  have  chosen  you  four,  as  the  best  of 
my  men,  to  join  me  in  an  affair  of  great  importance 
to  me.  It  may  turn  out  profitable  in  itself  ;  it  may 
not ;  but,  in  any  event,  you  four  will  be  well  paid." 

The  men  drew  closer,  leaning  toward  him  over 
their  saddles,  as  he  proceeded  to  describe  his  plan 
and  its  purpose.  Like  most  leaders,  he  deceived 
his  followers,  while  at  the  same  time  he  told  them 
the  truth  as  far  as  he  went. 


THE   CAVALIERS.  31 

He  was  going  to  rob  Vasseur  ;  that  much  was 
openly  avowed.  He  had  good  reason  to  believe,  he 
said,  that  Vasseur  had  in  his  house  a  treasure  of 
precious  stones,  probably  of  great  value,  besides  a 
large  amount  of  gold  coin.  How  this  information 
had  been  obtained  he  did  not  say,  nor  did  the  men 
inquire  ;  they  were  in  the  habit  of  taking  his  word 
without  question  and  were  ready  now  to  follow  him 
without  fear. 

"One  thing  is  to  be  borne  in  mind,"  he  went  on  : 
"  There  is  to  be  no  personal  hurt  done  to  the  man 
or  to  any  of  his  household.  We  are  to  gain  our 
point  by  clever  work." 

It  was  soon  disclosed,  as  he  proceeded  with  his 
statement,  that  what  he  meant  by  clever  work  was 
a  most  atrocious  method  of  procedure,  involving  the 
last  degree  of  cruelty  short  of  murder,  provided  that 
such  cruelty  should  become  necessary  in  order  to 
insure  success  in  the  enterprise. 

As  soon  as  the  council  was  ended,  the  leader 
resumed  his  course,  which  now  followed  the  marsh 
for  a  short  distance  and  then  turned  directly  across 
it  to  a  thinly  timbered  ridge  beyond.  The  horses 
floundered  through  the  deep,  black  ooze,  their  feet 
sinking  so  far  down  that  it  required  desperate 
lunges  to  draw  them  out. 

They  soon  reached  a  bluff  overlooking  the  bay  in 
a  southeasterly  direction  ;  here  a  fairly  good  road- 
way ran  parallel  with  the  beach,  following  which 
for  a  mile  southward,  they  came  to  Vasseur's  house, 
hid  away  in  the  trees  and  vines  like  some  great 
straggling  bird-nest,  dim  and  silent. 


32  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

The  cavaliers  put  on  black  cloth  masks  as  soon  as 
they  reached  the  bluff.  It  was  not  usual  for  them 
to  wear  a  disguise ;  but  this  was  an  extraordinary 
exploit ;  it  called  for  every  precaution.  Indeed,  a 
piece  of  treachery  scarcely  ever  before  heard  of, 
even  among-  robbers,  was  in  this  act  now  to  be  done 
by  the  King  of  Honey  Island.  No  one  of  the  riders 
knew  of  this  peculiar  phase  of  the  matter,  however, 
save  the  king  himself. 

There  was  no  hesitation,  therefore,  and  not  a 
twinge  of  what  a  desperado  might  call  conscience. 
The  plan  was  carried  out  with  promptness,  precision 
and  success. 

Before  Vasseur  was  fairly  awake,  he  was  bound 
hand  and  foot,  and  lay  on  the  floor  absolutely  help- 
less, gazing  wildly  at  his  assailants. 

Fairfax,  too,  was  surprised  in  his  bed.  He  made 
vigorous  resistance  ;  but  it  was  of  no  use.  Four 
men,  each  as  strong  or  stronger  than  he,  cast  them- 
selves upon  him  and  quickly  overpowered  him, 
binding  his  arms  and  legs  with  brutal  disregard  for 
the  torture  inflicted,  and  thrusting  a  gag  between 
his  teeth. 

"  I  know  you  !  I  know  you  !"  screamed  Vasseur, 
before  his  mouth  was  stopped.  "  I  know  you,  Pierre 
Rameau.  You  might  just  as  well  take  off  that 
mask  ;  it  does  not  disguise  you  in  the  least.  Ah, 
you  treacherous,  soulless,  perjured  villain  !" 

The  gag  went  in  before  he  could  say  more  ;  but 
he  lay  on  his  back  and  cursed  with  his  eyes. 

Three  of  the  cavaliers  were  now  sent  out  to  keep 
watch.  Some  of  the  slaves  had  been  aroused,  but 


THE   CAVALIERS.  33 

they  were  easily  quieted  ;  a  word  and  the  sight  of 
a  gun  or  a  saber  in  the  hand  of  a  tall  masked  man 
sent  them  shivering  and  speechless  into  their  cabins 
where  they  crouched  like  wild  animals,  scarcely 
breathing  for  fear  they  were  to  be  dragged  away 
and  sold. 

The  work  which  the  riders  had  come  to  do  was 
accomplished  in  a  very  short  space  of  time.  Vas- 
seur's  money  and  his  treasure  of  precious  stones 
were  soon  found  and  taken  ;  but  when  the  chief 
had  examined  the  latter  he  turned  to  Vasseur  and 
said  : 

"  The  cross  is  not  here.    Where  is  it  ?" 

The  man,  being  gagged,  of  course  there  was  no 
answer  ;  but  the  curses  were  still  flashing  out  of 
his  eyes,  while  his  small,  compact  frame  shook  with 
a  passion  that  no  cords  could  bind. 

After  gazing  through  his  mask  for  a  moment  at 
the  grimacing  countenance  of  his  victim,  the  chief 
of  the  riders  stooped  and  began  to  search  the  fellow's 
clothes.  Vasseur  strained  desperately  trying  to 
break  the  cords  that  bound  him,  his  fury  fairly 
blazing  from  his  dark  face.  Very  deliberately  the 
robber  continued  his  quest  till  with  a  little  start  of 
satisfaction  he  laid  hands  on  the  worn  leather  case 
containing  the  amethyst  cross. 

At  this  moment,  Vasseur  spit  out  the  gag  with  a 
great  breath  which  sent  it  across  the  room. 

"  Pierre  Rameau,  you  dastard  !"  he  screamed  in 
French.  "  You  faithless  and  honorless  hound ! 
I'll  kill  you  for  this — I'll  track  you — dog  you — follow 
you  forever,  or  kill  you  !" 


34  THE   KINO   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

The  robber  deliberately  set  his  foot  upon  the 
helpless  man's  mouth  and  thus  stopped  his  speech. 

"  Fetch  here  that  gag,"  he  said  to  one  of  his  fol- 
lowers ;  but  when  he  removed  his  foot  and  before 
the  gag  could  be  used,  Vasseur  managed  to  shriek  : 

"  I  will  inform  on  you — I  will  lead  government 
troops  against  you — I'll  have  vengeance — I'll — " 

"  Go  out  and  mount ;  I'll  come  immediately," 
said  the  chief  to  his  men.  "  Be  ready  to  ride 
instantly." 

He  drew  a  pistol  and  leveled  it  at  Vasseur,  but 
checked  himself  almost  in  the  act  of  firing. 

The  four  cavaliers  were  mounted,  one  of  them 
holding  the  chief's  horse  ;  they  waited  impatiently 
in  the  rather  chill  morning  breeze,  and  saw  that  a 
faint  touch  of  dawn  was  whitening  the  sky-line  of 
the  day. 

When  at  last  the  chief  came  forth,  he  walked 
rapidly,  and,  mounting  as  if  in  a  mighty  hurry,  spoke 
*he  one  word  :  "  Come  !"  and  galloped  away. 

None  of  the  cavaliers  looked  behind  ;  but  if  one 
had,  he  might  have  seen  a  flicker  of  fire  through  the 
small  window-holes  of  Vasseur's  house,  and  a  little 
later,  the  place  was  all  aflame. 

Doubtless,  the  chief,  who  was  aware  that  both 
Vasseur  and  Fairfax  had,  by  the  accidental  slipping 
aside  of  his  mask,  seen  his  face,  was  desirous  of 
thus  putting  an  end  to  them  and  to  the  possibility 
of  any  trouble  from  them  thereafter.  Certainly, 
there  was  no  other  reasonable  explanation  of  his 
sudden  change  from  the  express  purpose  to  leave 
Vasseur  unharmed.  At  all  events,  no  act  of  that 


THE   CAVALIERS.  35 

desperate  man's  life  was  more  representative  of  his 
absolute  heartlessness  or  of  his  promptness  in  doing 
whatever  seemed  to  him  safest,  without  regard  in 
the  least  to  anything  save  his  own  personal  success. 
He  rode  away  from  the  burning  house,  leaving  his 
two  human  victims  to  roast  there,  and  the  act  did 
not  even  change  a  line  in  the  expression  of  his  dark, 
calm  face. 

One  thing  was  photographed  in  the  memory  of 
Fairfax  :  The  singular  cold  gleam  of  the  robber's 
eyes,  as  they  appeared  to  narrow  and  lengthen  with 
a  cat-like  stare.     He  might  forget  the  other  features 
of  that  face,  even  the  slender  whitish  scar  slanting 
across  the  left  cheek  ;  but  the  shape  and  expression 
of  the  eyes  could  not  be  lost.    He  lay  there  thinking  : 
"  If  I  ever  see  you  again,  I'll  know  you." 
But  the  gag  held  back  every  effort  to  speak. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ECHOES   FROM    LAWLESS   DAYS. 

For  a  while  it  looked  as  if  Vasseur  and  Fairfax 
would  be  roasted  alive  in  the  burning  house,  as  the 
leader  of  the  cavaliers  had  intended  when  he  applied 
the  fire  ;  but  the  slaves  rallied  from  their  stupor  of 
fright  in  time  to  come  to  the  rescue. 

The  two  men,  still  bound  and  gagged,  were 
dragged  forth  without  any  ceremony  and  left  lying 
at  some  distance  from  the  building,  while  the 
excited  blacks  made  heroic  efforts  to  save  first  the 
house  itself  and  then  the  furniture.  Their  work 
was  quite  in  vain,  however,  for  the  dry,  resinous 
pine  logs  and  boards,  yielded  to  the  flames  as  if  with 
delight,  flinging  out  such  heat  that  nothing  less 
invulnerable  than  a  salamander  could  have  gone 
within  the  doors.  They  made  a  great  hubbub  as 
they  rushed  here  and  there  through  the  black  pitch- 
smoke  and  the  increasing  glare,  their  half-clad 
sable  forms  looking  like  veritable  demons  raging 
around  some  infernal  center  of  torture. 

Fairfax  lay  on  his  back  under  a  fig-tree  and 
watched  helplessly  and  with  what  resignation  he 
[361 


ECHOES    FBOM    LAWLESS   DAYS.  37 

could  command  the  rapid  and  weird  changes  of  the 
scene.  The  negroes  had  deemed  it  best  to  leave 
the  men  tied,  seeing  at  a  glance  that  to  unbind  them 
would  require  great  effort  and  much  loss  of  valuable 
time,  which  had  better  be  spent  in  efforts  to  save 
property.  It  was  a  strikingly  characteristic  fact 
that  not  one  of  them  thought  of  cutting  the  cords  ! 
Both  Fairfax  and  Vasseur  tried  to  make  them  think 
of  it  ;  but  the  ludicrous  grimaces,  which  under  the 
circumstances  were  their  only  language,  conveyed 
no  such  suggestion  to  the  excited  Africans,  where- 
fore, as  the  conflagration  proceeded,  Vasseur  raged 
in  stifling  silence,  and  Fairfax  strove  to  deport  him- 
self with  all  the  dignity  becoming  the  last  of  a  great 
Virginia  familv.  considering  the  peculiarities  of  the 
situation. 

Meanwhile,  the  five  cavaliers  were  speeding  on 
their  way  to  Honey  Island.  Their  ride  back  along 
the  Black-wolf  Trail  was  far  brisker  than  was  their 
pace  when  we  saw  them  going  down  to  the  bay ; 
indeed,  by  the  time  that  full  daylight  was  abroad  in 
the  woods,  they  were  far  up  by  the  banks  of  Pearl 
River,  galloping  along  single  file,  with  a  cane-brake 
on  one  hand  and  a  wild  jungle  of  live-oaks  and 
tangled  vines  on  the  other.  The  chief  had  led  them 
by  a  new  route  from  Vasseur 's  to  the  trail,  a  cross- 
way  that  ran  past  the  humble  home  of  Lapin,  the 
overseer  of  Mr.  Vernon's  plantation.  Day  was 
beginning  to  shoot  up  its  first  faint  shimmer  as  they 
rode  near  tne  little  piace,  startling  a  pacs.  of  dogs 
from  their  slumbers  unaer  a  low  shea  and  drawing 
from  them  a  broadside  of  discordant  baying.  Some 


38  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

domestic  fowls,  roosting  on  a  rude  grape  trellis, 
cackled  lustily. 

Two  savage-looking  bloodhounds  cleared  the  low 
yard  fence  at  a  bound  and  came  tearing  along  after 
the  horsemen,  as  if  to  drag  them  from  their  saddles. 

"  Don't  shoot  !"  commanded  the  chief,  as  one  of 
the  cavaliers  lifted  his  gun.  "  We  are  not  niggers  ; 
they'll  quit  when  they  discover  our  scent.  Hold 
your  fire." 

Sure  enough  it  was  so ;  the  dogs  turned  about 
almost  instantly,  when  they  discovered  that  it  was 
white  men  in  the  saddles,  and  trotted  leisurely  back 
the  way  they  had  come. 

While  this  was  going  on,  a  singular  incident  added 
significance  to  what  would  have  otherwise  been 
scarcely  worth  our  noting. 

At  the  sound  of  the  chief's  voice,  some  one  in  the 
house  leaped  out  of  bed  and  ran  to  the  little  square 
window-hole  that  overlooked  the  path  along  which 
the  cavaliers  were  cantering.  A  moment  later, 
just  as  the  chief  was  on  the  point  of  disappearing 
among  the  trees,  a  head  covered  with  long,  scatter- 
ing, disheveled  locks  of  white  hair  was  thrust  out, 
the  face  showing  haggard  and  shrunken  with 
intense  excitement,  and  the  sunken  blue  eyes  fol- 
lowed in  strange  wise  the  horseman's  movements. 

The  chief  glanced  back  just  at  that  point,  but  he 
did  not  see  the  face  in  the  window-hole  ;  if  he  had 
seen  it  and  recognized  it,  the  effect  upon  him  would 
have  been  greater  than  a  row  of  leveled  guns  could 
have  produced. 

Little  note  made  the  grim  riders  of  this  incident , 


ECHOES   FROM   LAWLESS   DAYS.  39 

they  did  not  note  it  at  all,  in  fact,  but  galloped  on 
in  reckless  mood,  knowing  that  there  was  no  force 
to  pursue  them,  and  that  every  bound  their  horses 
made  bore  them  that  much  nearer  to  the  land  of 
their  comrades,  the  almost  impenetrable  wilderness 
of  Honey  Island,  where  their  chief  was  king,  and 
where  the  division  of  spoils  was  the  only  evidence 
of  law. 

One  came  upon  their  track,  however — a  tall  old 
man  on  foot  and  unarmed.  He  strode  out  from 
Lapin's  cabin  and  followed  the  trail,  stepping 
slowly  and  firmly,  yet  showing  as  if  from  within 
the  window  of  his  countenance  a  consuming  eager- 
ness and  a  great  hope. 

It  was  thus  that  Alexander  Max  Burns  once 
more  got  a  glimpse  of  the  man  who  had  stolen  his 
child.  That  man's  voice  had  startled  him  from  his 
morning's  sleep  under  Lapin's  roof,  and  the  hurried 
look  through  the  window  had  photographed  on  his 
brain  a  picture  of  terrible  significance  to  him.  For 
the  merest  point  of  time  his  eyes  had  rested  upon 
Kirk  MacCollough.  He  muttered  that  name  as  he 
trudged  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  gloomy  forest 
following  the  trail  of  the  cavaliers. 

What  is  it  that  makes  our  consciousness  of  an 
enemy's  personal  beauty  something  appealing  and, 
in  a  way,  distressing  ?  An  old  duelist  has  been 
heard  to  say  that  he  would  rather  stand  before  an 
ordinary-looking  dead  shot  than  before  a  handsome 
bungler.  The  glamour  of  a  fine,  magnetic  presence 
is  strangely  confusing  ;  and  the  effect  seems  more 
powerful  when  the  face  is  an  evil  one,  especially 


40  THE   KING  OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

when  the  evil  is  not  on  the  outside  and  shows  only 
elusively  and  by  subtle  indirection  from  within. 
Max  Burns  felt  the  fascination  that  flashed  from 
the  robber-chief's  face,  and  for  a  time  it  almost 
unnerved  him  ;  the  beauty  it  wore,  like  some  shi- 
ning mask,  did  not  suggest  at  all  times  the  dark 
spirit  of  the  desperate  and  lawless  man.  Long, 
curling  yellow  hair  and  a  fine  full  beard  of  the  same 
color  ;  a  straight  nose  ;  a  good  forehead  ;  long,  nar- 
row, clear-gray  eyes  and  a  mouth  indescribably 
haughty  and  stern  in  its  expression,  were  supple- 
mented by  a  frame  of  unusual  statute  and  symme- 
try. This  was  Pierre  Rameau,  formerly  Kirk 
MacCollough,  now  the  King  of  Honey  Island,  as  old 
Max  Burns  saw  him  in  the  gray  morning  light,  an 
apparition  of  unspeakable  meaning  to  him,  gleam 
like  a  phantom  of  evil  for  a  second  and  then  fade, 
as  it  were,  into  the  gloom  of  the  moss-hung  woods. 

Certainly  it  was  not  the  Kirk  MacCollough  of 
twelve  years  ago — not  the  slender,  fair -faced  youth 
who  had  stolen  the  girl — though  the  reckless  half- 
smile  still  lingered  and  the  old  stamp  of  utter 
unrestraint  was  as  plain  as  ever.  No,  not  the  boy- 
ish Kirk  MacCollough,  but  the  man,  full-grown  to 
his  prime,  masterful,  commanding,  a  leader  of  men, 
and  yet  there  was  no  mistaking  his  identity. 

Max  Burns  was  old,  and  for  fifty  years  had  been 
a  preacher  whose  sermons  had  overflowed  with 
sentimental  tenderness  ;  but  he  had  a  side  to  his 
nature  which  was  as  hard  as  Scotch  granite.  It 
was  with  this  hard  side  out  that  he  was  pursuing 
Kirk  MacCollough  ;  and  yet,  even  through  this,  the 


ECHOES   FROM   LAWLESS   DAYS.  41 

spell  of  the  man's  strong  and  beautiful  face  found 
its  way  to  his  heart. 

The  effect  of  it  was  but  temporary,  so  far  as 
checking  his  determination  was  concerned  ;  but  it 
never  quite  left  him  during  the  rest  of  the  day  as  he 
slowly  but  steadily  followed  the  trail  into  the  main 
road  and  on  toward  the  upper  Pearl-River  region. 

Literally,  the  preacher  had  no  scrip  for  his 
journey,  no  staff,  no  means  of  living  ;  he  depended, 
as  the  old-time  minister  of  the  backwoods  was  wont 
to  do,  upon  the  hand  of  Providence.  Here  and 
there  a  trapper's  or  a  hunter's  hut,  here  and  yonder 
a  settler's  cabin  offered  him  rest,  food,  shelter.  He 
did  not  tell  his  story  ;  but  he  prayed  at  the  fire- 
side of  all,  and  he  managed  to  leave  behind  him, 
wherever  he  went,  a  memorable  something — sweet, 
strange  and  altogether  welcome  to  the  simple 
pioneer  hearts.  Sometimes  he  fell  among  desperate 
men,  robbers  themselves,  or  aiders  and  abettors  of 
them,  and  even  with  these  he  was  at  home  ;  for  he 
bore  with  him  the  charm  of  childlike  faith,  combined 
with  the  touching  appeal  of  unprotected  old  age. 

What  helped  him  most  of  all,  perhaps,  was  his 
singing  ;  for  age  had  scarcely  touched  the  deep, 
rich  music  of  his  voice,  and  his  memory  was  stored 
with  hymns  and  tunes  that  enthralled  the  hearts  of 
his  entertainers. 

The  strolling  preachers  of  all  denominations 
traversed  our  frontier  regions  in  those  days,  and 
Max  Burns  was  accepted  as  a  member  of  the  class 
without  a  question,  without  suspicion,  and  made 
freely  welcome  by  every  household  as  a  privileged 


42  THE   KINO   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

if  not  in  every  instance  a  venerated  person.  Curious 
enough  does  it  appear  when  recorded,  but  it  is, 
nevertheless,  a  historical  fact,  that  the  preacher 
found  for  some  time  a  home  with  one  Dick  Becket, 
well  known  as  the  fighting  fiddler,  who  was  a  red- 
headed man,  very  bow-legged,  much  freckled  and 
badly  scarred  by  an  old  knife-cut  across  the  nose, 
and  whose  cabin  was  about  three  miles  east  of 
Pearl  River,  opposite  the  southern  end  of  Honey 
Island. 

This  Dick  Becket  was  a  trapper  and,  to  some 
extent,  a  trader  with  the  Indians.  His  cabin  was 
often  the  stopping-place  of  the  freebooters,  with 
whom  he  kept  on  good  terms  without  having  any- 
thing to  do  with  their  enterprises.  He  charged 
liberal  prices  for  their  board  and  lodging,  and  so 
his  place  became  known  far  and  near  as  Dick's. 
He  lived  to  a  great  age,  dying  in  1867  on  the  banks 
of  Pearl  River,  not  far  from  where  his  first  cabin 
stood.  It  was  from  him,  at  first  hand,  that  many 
of  the  Honey  Island  legends  came  into  circulation 
in  their  present  form.  He  fiddled  as  long  as  he 
lived,  and  was  a  noted  story-teller.  He  took  Burns 
in  and  became  greatly  attached  to  him,  ever  after- 
ward calling  him  Daddy  or  Parson  Burns. 

Thus  established  within  a  comparatively  short 
distance  of  Pierre  Rameau's  base  of  operations,  the 
old  man  felt  that  at  last  he  was  on  the  point  of 
reaching  the  end  of  his  long  wanderings.  There 
could  be  no  doubt  now  that  Pierre  Rameau  and 
MacCollough  were  one  and  the  same  man,  nor  did 


ECHOK8   FROM    LAWLESS   DAYS.  43 

it  look  possible  for  the  outlaw  to  prevent  his 
approach,  provided  that  he  could  avoid  recognition. 

The  writer  of  this  story  has  become  the  owner  of 
a.  curious  and  singularly  interesting  collection  of 
papers,  labeled  "  The  Pearl  River  Records,"  and  it 
is  from  these  and  from  Dick  Becket's  stories  that  he 
has  obtained  the  main  facts  hi  connection  with  Rev. 
Max  Burns's  sojourn  in  the  region  of  Honey  Island. 
The  information  is  meager  enough  touching  the  old 
man's  motive  ;  but  this  lack  naturally  came  of  his 
reticence  and  caution  in  communicating  with  the 
people  who  treated  him  so  kindly.  Supplementing 
the  fiddler's  reminiscences  and  the  "  Records  " — 
most  of  which  have  to  do  with  the  exploits  of  vari- 
ous outlaws,  from  Rameau,  Lafitte,  Murrell  and 
Copeland,  down  to  Rube  Burrow  and  Eugene 
Bunch — the  recollections  of  Orlando  Favre,  a  very 
old  half-breed  Indian,  who  died  some  fifteen  years 
ago,  have  been  relied  upon  ;  but,  after  all,  the  facts 
are  meager  and  scattering.  Indeed,  what  has 
already  been  told  in  the  present  chapter  cannot  be 
added  to.  The  further  adventures  of  Max  Burns, 
in  so  far  as  they  will  be  found  of  importance  in  this 
story,  will  be  looked  for  at  another  stage  of  our 
progress. 

We  must  now  return  to  the  bay  of  Saint  Louis, 
where  \ve  left  Vasseur  and  Fairfax  enduring  as 
best  they  could  a  situation  at  once  awkward  and 
trying  in  the  extreme.  To  be  bound  and  gagged 
could  be  borne  after  a  fashion,  so  long  as  the  evil 
was  enforced  by  an  irresistible  enemy  ;  moreover, 
since  every  moment  added  the  torture  of  cruelly 


44  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

tight-drawn  cords  to  wrists  and  ankles,  the  first 
part  of  the  ordeal  was  much  milder  than  the  latter 
part ;  but  when  it  came  to  lying  prone,  stiff  and 
speechless  while  a  great  fire  raged  almost  over  them 
it  was  the  unbearable  that  had  to  be  borne  ;  it  was 
torture  too  exasperating  for  even  the  temper  of 
Fairfax.  He  too  gave  way  to  violent  "  paroxysms 
of  silence,"  as  he  afterward  expressed  it. 

When  Vasseur  was  at  length  released,  he  was  too 
weak  and  benumbed  by  the  pressure  of  the  bonds 
and  by  the  exhaustive  wrath-passion  that  he  had 
indulged  in  for  his  curses  and  cuffs  to  do  much 
harm  ;  but  he  distributed  both  with  unstinted  liber- 
ality as  he  limped  and  hopped  wildly  about  amongst 
the  negroes. 

The  house  and  nearly  everything  in  if  were 
burned  to  ashes  in  an  incredibly  short  time.  Fair- 
fax could  not  repress  a  smile  when  he  found  that 
his  travelling-bag  containing  his  clothes  had  been 
saved,  while  his  sketches  and  his  weapons — his  pis- 
tols and  his  gun,  a  rifle  of  great  value — had  been 
overlooked  and  left  to  be  destroyed.  As  for  Vasseur, 
his  mind,  what  little  of  it  was  presently  available, 
raged  with  the  memory  of  his  lost  treasure  of  jewels. 
He  screamed  in  French,  he  screeched  in  Italian,  he 
cursed  and  swore  without  fear  of  confusion  of 
tongues,  and  through  it  all  ran  something  about  hav- 
ing been  betrayed  and  robbed  by  an  individual  who 
owed  him  an  eternal  debt  of  gratitude.  All  this, 
considering  that  the  man  was  still  in  his  night- 
clothes,  of  which  a  red  night-cap  was  a  most  con- 
spicuous garment,  would  have  been  highly  amusing 


ECHOES    FROM  IAWLE8S   DAYS.  45 

at  any  other  time  ;  and  even  now,  at  its  worst,  it 
was  weirdly,  almost  demoniacally,  comical. 

Fairfax  dressed  himself  forthwith,  and  then  stood, 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  staring  at  the  scene, 
as  one  does  when  one  feels  especially  perplexed  and 
helpless  in  the  midst  of  sudden  disaster.  He  turned 
quickly,  however,  when  Vasseur  came  near.  The 
little  fellow  could  scarcely  speak  intelligibly,  and 
the  froth  of  excitement  was  clotted  on  his  lips. 

"  It  was  zat  Pierre  Rameau  !"  he  cried,  not  forget- 
ting to  air  his  English  even  in  this  extremity. 
"  Zat  villaine,  zat  robbaire  !  He  steal  evareting  ! 
He  burn  my  maison  ;  he  care  off  my  propriety  !" 

Usually  it  was  not  hard  for  Fairfax  to  find  words  ; 
but  now  he  could  frame  no  suitable  comment  on 
the  occasion.  He  stood  looking  at  his  swarthy  little 
host,  and  smiling  half  mechanically,  without  moving 
his  lips  to  make  him  a  response.  There  was  pathos 
as  well  as  comedy  in  the  situation. 

The  negroes,  men,  women  and  children,  gathered 
in  awe-struck  groups  to  gaze  on  the  fire,  making 
their  remarks  in  undertones,  the  women  crying  and 
the  half-naked  little  ones  clinging  to  the  coarse, 
scant  skirts  of  their  mothers. 

"  Ah  !  Ze  villaine  !  Ze  scoun'rel  !  Ze  robbaire  ! 
Oh  !  Ah  !  Ah  !  Ah  !  My  jewels  !  My  pretty  jewels  !" 
still  wailed  Vasseur,  after  the  house  was  white 
ashes  and  the  sun  had  come  up  from  the  sea  like  a 
great  round  flower  of  flame.  "  My  precious  stones  ! 
My  beautiful  cross  !  My  money  !  Zey  are  all 
gone — gone  !  He  took  zem  !  Oh  !  Ze  perfide 
vagabone  !  Ze  scel'erat .'" 


46  THE   KING   OF  HONEY    ISLAND. 

When  Fairfax  had  pulled  himself  together  suffic- 
iently to  consider  the  situation  calmly,  his  first 
effort  was  toward  reducing  Vasseur  to  a  rational 
state  of  mind,  a  task  by  no  means  easy  to  accom- 
plish. He  succeeded  in  a  measure  at  length,  and 
when  the  poor  little  man  had  found  some  clothes 
and  a  pipe,  the  whole  matter  was  talked  over  ;  and 
so  it  happened  that  Fairfax  heard  a  strange  story. 

Eight  years  prior  to  the  robbery  at  Vasseur 's,  the 
two  men,  Vasseur  and  Rameau,  had  been  comrades 
and  equal  sharers  in  the  dangers  and  the  profits  of  a 
daring  piece  of  piracy  done  in  the  far  East.  In 
dividing  the  spoils,  Vasseur  gladly  accepted  a  large 
quantity  of  jewels,  some  of  them  the  personal  prop- 
erty of  Rameau,  in  lieu  of  their  value  in  money,  his 
passion  for  precious  stones  controlling  his  greed 
for  gold  ;  but  a  goodly  pile  of  money  fell  to  his 
share  also,  and  he  abandoned  the  sea  forthwith  to 
settle  himself,  with  a  body  of  slaves,  on  a  plantation 
in  San  Domingo,  whence,  when  disturbances  came, 
he  fled  to  his  present  abode  on  the  beautiful  bluffs 
of  the  bay  of  Saint  Louis. 

Vasseur  gave  the  details  of  his  story  without 
reserve.  He  was  boiling  over  with  indignation,  and 
his  passion  made  him  recklessly  communicative  ; 
indeed,  he  was  almost  crazed,  and  seemed  to  find 
vent  for  his  overcharge  of  nervous  excitement  in 
laying  bare  the  innermost  secrets  of  his  past  experi- 
ence. 

Under  ordinary  circumstances  and  in  a  normal 
mood,  Fairfax  most  probably  would  have  refused  to 
hear  these  terrible  confessions  ;  and  yet  they  were 


ECHOES   FROM    LAWLESS    DATS.  47 

of  a  kind  to  enthrall  the  imagination  of  a  young 
man,  himself  passionately  fond  of  adventure  ;  and 
when  he  was  told  that  the  daring  and  villainous  act 
just  perpetrated  by  the  riders  from  Honey  Island 
had  been  directed  by  Pierre  Rameau  in  person,  he 
felt  that,  no  matter  what  had  been  Vasseur's  crimes, 
the  little  man  was  justifiable  in  considering  himself 
atrociously  betrayed  and  outraged  by  his  former 
partner  in  felony. 

It  was  a  revelation  to  Fairfax  thus  to  find  himself 
the  companion  and  comrade  in  misfortune  of  a 
whilom  pirate  ;  but,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  he  did 
not  recoil  from  the  discovery.  Doubtless  he  recog- 
nized it  as  a  necessary  part  of  the  life  around  him, 
and  found  food  for  his  fancy  in  regarding  it  as  an 
incident  of  the  slowly  receding  buccaneer  days — a 
stray,  lingering  wave  of  the  wild  tide  of  lawlessness 
which  formerly  flowed  from  the  Caribbean  across 
the  Gulf  into  the  famous  rendezvous  of  Bay  Saint 
Louis  ;  at  all  events,  he  found  a  certain  exhilaration, 
possessing  him,  and  as  he  walked  up  to  the  Vernon 
place  that  same  morning  he  could  not  cast  off  a 
sense  of  the  link  which  connected  him  with  some 
great  chain  of  picturesque  events  past,  present  and 
to  come. 

When  he  neared  the  house  he  heard  the  noisy 
mocking-birds  in  the  oaks  and  magnolias,  and  the 
first  person  he  saw  was  Mile.  Pauline  Vernon  stand- 
ing, tall,  bright  and  beautiful,  on  the  veranda  under 
the  vines.  Something  in  her  form  and  face  sent  a 
tender  thrill  through  him,  and  in  a  moment  he  was 
strangely  happy.  Youth  casts  out  the  evil  spirit  of 


48  THE  KINO    OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

misfortune  so  easily  in  the  worst  case  ;  and,  after 
all,  what  had  happened  to  Fairfax  was  no  more  than 
a  stimulating  bit  of  experience  in  the  rougher  cur- 
rent of  the  wild  life  into  which  he  had  voluntarily 
thrown  himself.  He  had  seen  Pierre  Rameau  in 
one  of  his  most  picturesque  attitudes,  and  the 
apparition  was  of  itself  worth  all  that  he  had  paid 
for  it  in  submitting  to  the  gag  and  to  imminent 
danger  of  being  roasted  alive.  The  artist  within 
him  was  complacently  happy  over  the  whole  affair. 
In  truth,  he  could  not  have  denied  that  the  robber's 
face  had  its  fascination.  Some  day  he  would  paint 
it  from  memory,  or  mayhap  he  might  yet  see  those 
strange,  terrible,  magnetic  eyes  again. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A   BREAKFAST    AT    VERNON    PLACE. 

As  Fairfax  approached  the  veranda,  Mr.  Yernon 
came  out  of  the  hall,  booted  as  if  for  a  ride  ;  at  the 
same,  time  a  servant  led  a  horse  around  from  the 
rear  c.f  the  house.  Father  and  daughter  both  smiled 
at  sight  of  the  young  man,  and  Mr.  Vernon  wel- 
comed him  with  a  hearty,  loud  "  Good-morning," 
his  voice  ringing  out  pleasantly  : 

"  Glad  to  see  you,  my  boy — glad  to  see  you.  Hope 
you  slept  well  last  night.  It  was  a  grand  night  for 
sound,  refreshing  sleep  !" 

Fairfax  lifted  his  hat  and  shook  hands  with  them 
both.  For  the  single  moment  that  his  fingers  closed 
over  those  of  Mile.  Pauline  he  looked  into  her  shy 
but  friendly  eyes  and  forgot  all  that  had  passed  dur- 
ing the  night. 

"And  how  are  they  down  at  Vasseur's?"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Vernon.  "  Is  my  little  neighbor  well  ?" 

He  always  spoke  of  Vasseur  in  the  diminutive. 

The  inquiry  caused  Fairfax  to  start  perceptibly. 
It  was  a  rude  transition  from  the  mood  of  the  mo- 
ment to  a  thought  of  what  had  come  to  pass  during 
the  night.  At  first  he  had  no  words  ready.  Like 

[49] 


50  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

an  abashed  boy,  he  stood  looking-  now  at  Mile.  Paul- 
ine and  then  at  her  father.  There  was  little  enough 
of  shyness  or  hesitation  in  his  nature;  but  somehow 
the  questions  threw  him  into  confusion.  Just  then 
the  subject  called  up  was  not  welcome  to  him  ;  it 
would  have  been  so  much  pleasanter  could  he  have 
been  left  alone  with  Mile.  Pauline  to  forget  that 
there  ever  was  a  Vasseur.  He  hesitated  but  a  mo- 
ment, however,  seeing  that  his  change  of  counten- 
ance had  stirred  up  some  sort  of  uneasiness  in  the 
mind  of  Mr.  Vernon,  who  had  observed  it. 

"  Vasseur  was  robbed  last  night,"  he  bluntly  said, 
"  and  his  house  was  burned." 

"  Robbed  !  Burned  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Vernon, 
whose  turn  it  now  was  to  be  taken  by  surprise. 

"  What  do  you  mean  to  say,  Mr.  Fairfax  !" 

Mile.  Pauline  drew  close  to  her  stalwart,  shaggy 
father,  and  put  an  arm  over  his  immense  shoulder. 
The  blood  had  left  her  face,  so  that  it  was  as  white 
as  a  lily  petal. 

It  did  not  give  Fairfax  any  pleasure  to  tell  the 
story.  Perhaps,  being  a  very  young  man,  he  was 
aware  that  his  part  in  the  affair  had  been  neither 
heroic  nor  picturesque,  and  that  he  must  at  best 
appear  to  have  been  an  easy  victim  to  a  bold  as- 
sault. This  was  an  exhilarating  consciousness. 

Mr.  Vernon's  brow  grew  dark  as  he  listened,  and 
he  combed  his  beard  with  his  fingers. 

"  I  will  ride  down  and  see  Vasseur,"  he  said.  "  It 
may  be  that  I  can  be  of  service  to  him.  Go  in,  Mr. 
Fairfax  ;  the  ladies  will  ask  you  a  thousand  ques- 
tions ;  I  will  return  immediately." 


BREAKFAST  AT  VKRNON  PLACE.         51 

"  But  it  is  dreadful !  It  is  dangerous  !  You  will 
be  killed  !"  cried  Pauline,  clinging  to  him,  nervously. 
"  Don't  go.  father  !  Please,  don't." 

He  kissed  her,  laughing  meantime  to  pooh-pooh 
her  fears,  then  went  down  the  steps  and  vaulted  with 
a  superb  show  of  muscular  energy  into  the  saddle. 
Before  he  rode  away,  he  sat  for  a  time  stroking  the 
glossy  neck  of  his  horse,  while  the  groom  fetched  a 
pair  of  heavy  holster  pistols  and  hung  them  at  the 
pommel  of  the  saddle  ;  then  his  gun  was  also  handed 
to  him. 

Mrs.  Vernon  made  her  appearance  at  this  point. 
She  saw  forthwith  that  something  unusual  had  hap- 
pened, and  began  to  ask  questions,  growing  excited 
as  she  proceeded.  The  groom  stood  listening  with 
open  mouth  and  rolling  eyes. 

"  Mr.  Fairfax  will  tell  you  everything,"  said  Mr. 
Vernon  ;  "  it's  nothing  so  terrible,  after  all.  The 
danger  is  past,  if  there  ever  was  any,  and  I'm  only 
going  down  to  console  poor  little  Vasseur." 

"  And,  say,  dear,"  he  turned  and  added  to  his  wife, 
after  he  had  ridden  to  some  distance,  "  ask  Mr.  Fair- 
fax to  have  some  breakfast ;  I  don't  think  he  has 
taken  any  this  morning.  I  may  return  in  time  to 
have  coffee  with  you  ;  but  don't  wait." 

Mrs.  Vernon  made  a  gesture  of  despair  and  began 
to  cry  hysterically. 

"  I  will  not  stay  in  this  terrible  place  any  longer  !" 
she  exclaimed  with  vehemence.  "  We  must  go  back 
to  the  city  at  once.  Oh,  but  this  is  unbearable  ! 
Robbers  down  there — only  a  mile  or  so  away  !  What 
if — if — what  if  they  had  come  here !" 


52  THE   KING   OF    HONEY   ISLAND. 

This  was  addressed  to  Mr.  Vernon,  but  he  did 
not  hear ;  his  horse  was  already  galloping  briskly 
away.  The  three,  Mrs.  Vernon,  Pauline  and  Fair- 
fax, stood  looking  after  him  until  he  had  passed 
out  of  sight  amid  the  fringe  of  trees  along  the  bluff 
of  the  bay  shore.  What  to  them  was  a  reality,  quite 
in  keeping  with  the  time  and  the  place,  must  appear 
to  us,  at  this  distance  and  with  our  surroundings, 
like  an  illustration  torn  from  some  old  novel.  Even 
in  that  day,  however,  when  every  inhabitant  of  the 
gulf  coast  was  more  or  less  familiar  with  lawless- 
ness and  violence  in  their  most  picturesque  forms, 
there  was  something  startling  in  each  new  phase  of 
the  reckless  life  that  throbbed  along  the  old  Creole 
borders.  It  is  impossible  for  men  and  women  to 
live  in  the  midst  of  romance  and  not  realize  it  in 
some  degree. 

"  He  ought  to  have  lived  in  the  days  of  Richard 
the  Lionheart,"  said  Fairfax,  turning  his  gaze  from 
where  Mr.  Vernon  had  disappeared  in  the  wood  to 
the  pale  face  of  Pauline.  "  He  would  have  been  a 
knight  of  iron  with  that  frame  of  his."  He  spoke 
lightly,  more  to  break  up  the  situation  and  call  the 
ladies  back  to  themselves  than  to  give  expression 
to  the  fancy  of  the  moment,  suggested  by  the 
superb  horsemanship  just  witnessed. 

"  But  the  robbers  !  They  will  kill  him  !"  insisted 
Mrs.  Vernon.  "  He  is  going  right  to  them  !" 

"Never  fear,  madam,"  said  Fairfax  with  an 
assuring  smile  ;  "  there  isn't  the  slightest  danger. 
Those  gallant  knights  of  the  road  are  many  miles 
from  here  at  present.  It  appears  they  knew  too 


BREAKFAST  AT  VERNON  PLACE.         53 

much  about  Vasseur's  treasure,  and  so  planned  a 
successful  raid  on  it.  There  is  no  more  danger 
from  them  ;  they  are  gone." 

"  But  we  have  jewels,  too,"  said  Mrs.  Vernon  with 
a  quick  look  at  Pauline.  "  They  might  want  our 
diamonds  !" 

Fairfax  laughed  outright,  and  the  ladies  joined 
him  timidly,  as  if  under  protest. 

"  If  I  may  speak  of  it,"  he  said,  "  you  are  forget- 
ting to  make  further  mention  of  breakfast.  I  am 
preposterously  hungry  after  my  night's  adventures.*' 

"  A  thousand  pardons  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Vernon. 
"  We  will  go  in  at  once." 

The  appeal  to  her  hospitality  was  with  her,  as  it 
has  always  been  with  the  Southern  hostess,  sufficient 
to  drive  almost  anything  else  from  her  mind. 

Pauline  led  the  way  to  the  breakfast-room,  where 
the  table  was  spread  near  a  rude  alcove  in  the  soft 
light  of  vine-colored  windows.  The  wildness  of  the 
place  was  emphasized  by  woody  perfumes,  that 
strayed  in  along  with  brilliant  song-phrases  of  the 
thrushes  and  mocking-birds.  The  air  itself,  as  it 
rustled  through  open  doors  and  windows,  was  a 
breath  of  the  blooming  virgin  wilderness,  and  there 
was  a  note  of  remoteness  and  loneliness  in  the  swash 
of  the  sea  and  the  sough  of  the  pines.  It  may  have 
been  the  sense  of  isolation  induced  by  the  surround- 
ings that  made  Fairfax  enjoy  in  some  indefinable 
way  the  indirect  appeal  to  his  protection,  which  he 
felt  rather  than  saw  or  heard  coming  to  him  from 
Mrs.  Vernon  and  her  daughter. 

Although  he  felt  it  necessary  to  hide  from  the 


54:  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

ladies  every  doubt  he  might  have  as  to  their  perfect 
security,  he  found  himself  tingling  with  pleasure, 
to  know  that  his  presence  gave  them  a  sense  of 
safety.  It  now  seemed  to  him  inexplicible  that 
Mr.  Vernon  should  have  brought  his  wife  and 
daughter  to  this  lonely  and  exposed  place.  If  the 
bay  of  Saint  Louis  is  a  secluded,  dreamy,  far-with- 
drawn spot  even  now,  what  was  it  at  the  beginning 
of  our  century  ? 

"  I  shall  insist  on  going  back  to  our  house  in 
New  Orleans  at  once,"  said  Mrs.  Vernon,  as  they 
took  their  places  at  the  table,  and  she  signaled  for 
a  servant.  "  I  am  not  willing  to  live  here  any 
longer." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  shivered. 

"It  may  be  as  you  think,  Mr.  Fairfax,  that  there 
is  no  danger  ;  but  who  wants  to  live  where  outlaws 
ride  past  one's  window  by  night  and  rob  and  burn 
one's  neighbor's  house  !  And,  besides,  I'm  heartily 
tired  of  this  horrid  place  !" 

Her  vivacity  gave  a  charming  piquancy  to  her 
expression  of  discontent.  She  spoke  of  Vasseur  as 
her  neighbor,  but,  in  fact,  she  had  never  seen  the 
man  or  his  house. 

Fairfax  could  not  have  the  heart  to  simulate 
opposition  to  the  natural  feeling  of  his  hostess, 
especially  since  he  was  hoping  and  wishing  that 
the  departure  of  the  Vernons  for  New  Orleans 
would  be  hastened  by  every  possible  good  fortune. 
He  was  ready  to  go  with  them  at  a  moment's 
notice,  and  would  have  been  glad  to  give  the  notice 
himself. 


BREAKFAST  AT  VERNON  PLACE.         53 

"Your  experience  here  will  be  pleasant  to 
remember,"  he  said,  "  and  I  should  think  that  such 
an  outing  would  add  an  express  charm  to  your 
enjoyment  of  the  city.  I  am  sure  that  even  my 
unheroic  adventures  with  the  masked  raiders  from 
the  wilderness  will  afford  me  most  enjoyable  recol- 
lections so  soon  as  I  can  get  them  in  the  proper 
perspective.  To  be  perfectly  frank,  I  am  myself 
quite  willing  to  return  to  New  Orleans." 

"  Father  will  be  ready  to  go  now,"  spoke  up 
Pauline,  for  the  first  time  ;  "  he  will  not  wish  to 
keep  us  here  any  longer." 

It  was  useless  for  Fairfax  to  try,  he  could  not  lead 
the  conversation  away  from  the  robbers,  and  so 
they  sat  long  at  the  table  discussing  the  subject 
most  unwelcome  to  him  until  Mr.  Vernon  returned 
just  in  time  to  take  coffee  with  them. 

The  incoming  of  the  bluff  and  cheery  host  changed 
the  atmosphere  of  the  room  at  once ;  Mrs.  Vernon 
and  Pauline  were  smiling  and  comparatively  at  ease 
again. 

"  I  have  sent  a  small  boat  with  orders  to  my  over- 
seer at  the  Chandeleurs  to  bring  up  another  large 
schooner  ;  I'm  going  to  take  everything  away  from 
here."  These  were  Mr.  Vernon 's  first  words.  "  My 
sloop  is  just  in  from  New  Orleans,"  he  added,  turn- 
ing some  papers  in  his  hands.  "  The  war  between 
England  and  the  United  States  is  taking  a  new  turn 
it  seems,  and  this  coast  will  not  long  be  safe.  We 
will  return  to  New  Orleans  at  once." 

Mrs.  Vernon  and  Pauline  exchanged  a  glance  of 
delight ;  evidently  just  then  they  were  glad  of  any- 


56  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

thing,  even  war,  that  would  drive  them  away  from 
their  wildwood  home  and  back  to  the  security  and 
comfort  of  the  city.  They  forgot  Pierre  Rameau 
and  his  cavaliers,  they  forgot  Vasseur  and  his 
house  in  ashes,  as  on  the  instant  the  vision  of  the 
mansion  on  the  narrow  street  in  New  Orleans,  arose 
in  their  minds  with  the  murmur  of  man's  activities 
and  the  gleam  of  passing  vehicles.  Indeed,  the 
thought  of  war  was  vague,  remote,  shrouded  in  the 
misty  distance  ;  even  the  United  States  seemed 
to  them  not  the  country  in  which  they  lived,  but 
rather  some  far-off  land  in  which  they  had  but  a 
nominal  interest. 

Fairfax  had  left  New  York  just  in  advance 
of  the  beginning  of  war,  and  perhaps  no  better  im- 
pression can  be  given  of  the  wide,  unconquered  dis- 
tances of  our  country  before  steam  and  electricity 
had  compressed  them,  than  to  imagine  that, 
although  for  some  months  the  fighting  had  been 
going  on,  the  news  of  it  was  just  fairly  reaching 
this  nook  of  the  gulf  coast  where  he  found  himself 
so  deeply  and  sweetly  content  that  the  thought  of 
his  country's  peril  or  of  his  duty,  as  the  son  of  a 
patriot  soldier,  calling  him  to  arms  had  not  once 
arisen  in  his  mind.  He  had  heard  the  war  men- 
tioned in  New  Orleans  ;  but  it  had  not  impressed 
him  as  a  matter  of  importance  to  himself. 

"  I  am  selfish  enough  to  be  glad  when  I  hear  you 
say  that  you  are  going  back  to  the  city,"  he  said, 
"  for  I  shall  have  to  depend  upon  you  to  give  me 
room  in  your  vessel.  I  was  just  telling  the  ladies 
that  last  night's  experiences  have  quite  filled  my 


BREAKFAST  AT  VERNON  PLACE.          57 

cup  f  desire,  and  that  I  am  willing  to  retire  from 
this  picturesque  region." 

Mr.  Vernon  laughed,  but  it  was  easy  to  see  that 
behind  his  appearance  of  cheerfulness  grave 
thoughts  were  pressing  upon  him.  His  heavy, 
bearded  face  showed  unmistakable  lines  of  trouble, 
and  in  his  deep-set  eyes  a  cloud  was  hovering.  He 
sipped  his  coffee  and  made  light  remarks ;  but 
Pauline's  quick  sympathy  discovered  his  real  mood. 

"  Something  has  happened  to  disturb  you,  papa," 
she  ventured.  "  There  is  something  you  dread  for 
us  to  know." 

The  perfect  frankness  of  her  voice  and  manner 
and  the  outright  sincerity  of  her  words  seemed  to 
touch  her  father.  A  slight  flush  crept  into  his 
cheeks  along  the  fringe  of  his  ample  white  beard  ; 
he  looked  at  her  with  a  gleam  of  tenderness  in  his 
eyes. 

"  You  are  a  very  close  observer,"  he  said,  in  half- 
banter.  u  You  read  me  as  if  my  face  were  a  book." 

"  He  finds  it  hard  to  tear  away  from  the  freedom 
of  this  wild  place,"  remarked  Mrs.  Vernon.  "  I  wish 
\ve  could  take  the  whole  estate  along  with  us  to  the 
city." 

"  I  wish  I  knew  that  we  could  be  sure  of  safety, 
even  in  New  Orleans,"  said  Mr.  Veruon.  "It  is 
better  to  be  in  the  city  than  here  ;  but  what  will 
become  of  it  when  an  English  fleet  and  army  lay 
siege  to  it  ?" 

"  But  they  will  never  come  away  off  there,  will 
they  ?"  inquired  Pauline,  with  all  the  faith  of  a  child 
in  long  distances. 


58  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

Her  father  laughed. 

"  We  will  not  borrow  trouble,"  he  said,  as  he 
folded  the  papers  in  his  hand  and  bestowed  them  in 
a  pocket  of  his  ample  jacket,  meantime  permitting 
Pauline  to  refill  his  cup.  Then  he  changed  his  tone 
and  said  that  they  would  sail  for  New  Orleans 
to-morrow  morning,  if  the  breeze  should  be  favor- 
able. 

Fairfax  saw  that  something  of  more  direct  per- 
sonal interest  than  news  of  the  progress  of  the  war 
was  demanding  Mr.  Vernon's  thought.  A  subtlety 
of  insight,  accidental  and  momentary,  perhaps,  gave 
him  a  half-glimpse  of  what  it  was,  or,  at  least,  engen- 
dered a  suspicion  of  its  origin,  if  not  of  its  nature 
and  substance. 

"  How  did  you  find  Vasseur  ?"  he  inquired.  "  Is 
he  quieting  down  to  a  robbed  man's  best  philos- 
ophy ?" 

"  Poor  little  fellow  !"  Mr.  Vernon  answered.  "  He 
cries  for  his  jewels  as  a  mother  cries  for  her  lost 
children." 

"  What  is  he  going  to  do  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  ;  no  more  does  he  ;  but  I  should 
not  like  to  be  the  man  that  robbed  him.  He  is 
little,  but  he  is  as  deadly  as  a  viper  and  as  persist- 
ent as  time  itself." 

Something  in  Mr.  Vernon's  voice  and  manner,  as 
he  said  this,  suggested  to  Fairfax  that  there  was 
a  meaning  between  the  words ;  but  the  truth  was 
that  Mr.  Vernon's  thoughts  were  not  on  Vasseur 
and  his  troubles.  Uppermost  in  his  mind  was  a 
shadow  of  what  the  war  might  bring  to  him  and 


BREAKFAST  AT  VERNON  PLACE.         59 

his.  Not  that  he  had  any  cowardly  fears  ;  but  there 
had  been  matters  connected  with  his  early  career 
which  rendered  the  probabilities  of  his  falling  into 
the  hands  of  the  English  a  thing  not  to  be  regarded 
without  unspeakable  dread.  He  knew  enough 
about  military  science  to  be  well  aware  of  the 
defenseless  condition  of  New  Orleans  in  the  pres- 
ence of  such  a  fleet  and  such  an  army  as  the  British 
government  might  be  able  to  send  there.  Now  the 
news  that  came  to  him  from  one  in  high  connection 
with  the  government  indicated  that  a  strong  fleet 
and  an  army  overwhelming  in  numbers  would  prob- 
ably soon  be  in  front  of  New  Orleans  and  under 
command  of  a  distinguished  British  officer.  What 
would  be  the  result  ?  It  seemed  to  him  that  there 
could  be  but  one  answer  :  The  city  would  fall,  and 
the  whole  gulf  coast  would  be  ravaged. 

He  excused  himself  presently,  with  the  plea  that 
he  had  much  to  do  in  preparing  for  the  departure 
for  New  Orleans,  and  went  out. 

Fairfax  felt  compelled,  under  the  circumstances, 
to  accept  the  hospitality  of  the  Vernons  during  the 
rest  of  his  stay,  seeing  that,  since  the  burning  of 
Vasseur's  place,  there  was  no  other  available  alter- 
native, and  besides  he  could  not  muster  up  the 
slightest  unwillingness  in  the  matter.  He  was  glad, 
indeed,  with  a  genuine  boyish  gladness,  and  could 
not  hide  the  pleasure  his  situation  gave  him. 

Fairfax  was  bold  to  make  the  most  of  his  sur- 
roundings ;  but  Pauline  when  she  found  herself  for 
a  moment  alone  with  him  under  the  vines  of  the 
rude  veranda,  suddenly  felt  an  access  of  shyness 


60  THE   KING   OF    HONEY   ISLAND. 

not  in  the  least  characteristic,  and  shrank  away 
from  him,  in  spirit  at  least,  taking  refuge  within 
that  impenetrable  close  which  is  walled  by  the 
reserve  of  unaffected  girlhood.  He,  however,  was 
too  happy  to  desire  more  than  to  be  near  her  and 
see  her,  to  feel  that  he  formed  part  of  a  picture 
with  her,  that  they  stood  on  the  same  plane  and 
were  outlined  against  the  same  romantic  back- 
ground ;  and  to  dream  that  perhaps  they  might  go, 
side  by  side,  through  a  long  and  happy  future. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

AN    UNKNOWN    SCHOONER. 

With  a  favorable  wind  and  with  the  temperature 
at  the  average  degree  for  springtime,  the  voyage 
from  the  bay  of  Saint  Louis  to  New  Orleans,  by 
way  of  Lake  Borgne,  the  Rigolets  and  Lake  Pont- 
chartrain,  is  a  charming  experience.  Passing  out 
of  the  bay's  mouth  in  a  southeasterly  direction,  the 
course  is  over  a  shallow  sound,  set  with  sand-bars 
and  dotted  with  low  islands,  some  of  them  densely 
wooded,  others  covered  with  rushes  and  marsh- 
grass.  On  the  right  for  miles  shine  the  white  bluffs 
of  the  mainland,  crowned  at  the  time  of  our  story 
with  groves  of  live-oaks  and  magnolias,  immense  in 
size  and  bearing  the  unmistakable  marks  of  great 
age.  It  was  these  beautiful  headlands  that  cast 
their  glamour  over  the  imagination  of  the  old 
French  explorer  as  he  sailed  by  in  1699,  on  his  way 
to  Pontchartrain  and  Maurepas.  From  then  till 
now,  the  fascination  .of  the  coast  as  seen  from  the 
sea  has  held  and  strengthened,  so  that  no  person 
can  pass  it  by  without  dreaming  the  dreams  of 
eternal,  breezy,  balmy  summer.  The  dusky  oaks 

[61] 


62  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

spread  their  arms  so  far,  their  leaves  and  their  trail- 
ing moss  shimmer  so  vaguely,  they  cast  such  dark, 
cool  shadows  below,  and  over  them  hovers  a  sheen 
so  tender !  Small  wonder  that  even  men  like  Iber- 
ville,  Chateaugue  and  Bienville  made  fine  plans  for 
possessing  a  paradise  so  fair  to  see,  and  harbored 
the  thought  of  peace  and  rest  on  the  airy  bluffs 
tinder  the  romantic  groves  where  the  red  men  held 
their  summer  feasts  and  worshiped  the  golden  sun  ! 

On  the  left,  as  the  vessel's  course  curves  west- 
ward toward  Borgne,  the  crescent  of  the  Chandeleurs 
bounds  the  horizon,  while  stretching  away  south- 
ward, swimming  apparently  against  both  sky  and 
water,  the  outlying  marshes  of  Louisiana  waver  and 
flicker  like  a  bank  of  sunlit  clouds. 

This  restless  sheet  of  water,  tumbling  its  short 
white-capped  waves  between  the  islands  and  the 
mainland,  is  Mississippi  Sound,  of  which  Lake 
Borgne  is  but  a  wider  part  that  finds  connection 
with  Pontchartrain  through  a  broad  bayou,  or  series 
of  bayous,  called  the  Rigolets. 

Pearl  River  falls  into  Lake  Borgne  some  miles 
eastward  from  the  Rigolets,  and  its  mouth,  joining 
with  many  little  bayous,  fills  the  grassy  marshes  on 
either  side  with  a  silvery  net-work  of  water. 

A  glance  at  a  good  map  of  the  region  will  show 
how  perfectly  adapted  was  this  whole  tangle  of 
lakes,  creeks,  rivers,  islands,  marshes,  swamps  and 
densely  timbered  mainlands  to  the  purposes  of  the 
outlaws,  whose  swift  little  vessels  darted  through 
the  intricate  water-ways  like  wild-fowl  in  their 
native  haunt.  What  had  the  pirates  to  fear  so  long 


AN   UNKNOWN   SCHOONER.  63 

as  there  was  no  government  properly  so  called  in 
Louisiana  ?  When  their  pockets  were  well  filled 
with  golden  loot,  they  even  ventured  boldly  into 
New  Orleans  or  Mobile,  and  drank  and  gambled 
and  held  high  carousal  with  jolly  planters  and 
reckless  traders  in  the  hotels  and  cafes.  Men  like 
Lafitte  and  Rameau  had  a  way  of  making  fair 
weather  for  themselves  ;  indeed,  they  were  not 
without  influence  in  circles  of  society,  the  proudest 
and  highest.  From  Barataria  Lake,  on  one  side,  to 
Honey  Island,  on  the  other,  New  Orleans  was 
hedged  in,  so  to  speak,  with  a  cordon  of  outlaws, 
whose  leaders  dictated,  in  no  small  degree,  the 
policy  of  the  city  in  trade  and  commerce,  law  and 
politics. 

Mr.  Vernon  was  explaining  all  this  to  Fairfax  as 
they  sat  smoking  on  the  deck  of  the  little  vessel 
which  was  bearing  them  past  Half-Moon  Island  into 
the  tumbling  little  sea  called  Lake  Borgne.  Mrs. 
Vernon  and  Pauline  were  below,  and  a  group  of 
family  servants,  huddled  forward,  were  lounging  idly 
and  enjoying  the  lazy  swing  of  the  waves.  Three 
black  men,  short,  gaunt,  with  muscles  like  iron  bands 
on  their  sturdy  limbs,  were  the  vessel's  crew.  One, 
whose  woolly  head  was  grizzled  with  age,  watched 
the  tiller,  and  gave  orders  in  a  queer  mincing  patois. 

"  You  do  not  mean  to  say,  Mr.  Vernon,  that  you 
are  abandoning  your  place  at  Bay  Saint  Louis," 
remarked  Fairfax,  in  the  course  of  their  conversa- 
tion ;  "  you  surely  are  not  going  to  leave  it  to  go  to 
ruin  !" 

"  I  cannot  say  for  how  long  ;  but  certainly  I  am 


64:  THE   KING   OF    HONEY   ISLAND. 

abandoning  it,"  said  Mr.  Vernon.  "  It  is  no  longer 
safe  for  myself  or  my  slaves  to  stay  there.  Besides, 
if  the  war  reach  here  everything  will  be  destroyed, 
and  even  if  that  calamity  be  averted,  there  remains 
the  general  unsafe  condition  of  society  and  govern- 
ment here." 

Pauline  just  then  came  from  below. 

"  But  do  you  think  the  British  are  really  likely  to 
attack  this  coast  ?"  inquired  Fairfax 

"  It  is  not  only  likely  but  almost  certain,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  And  with  what  result  ?" 

"Disaster  to  us." 

At  this  point  Mr.  Vernon  arose  and  went  to  speak 
to  the  black  man  at  the  tiller.  He  was  beginning 
to  fear  that  with  the  breeze  as  it  now  set  they  were 
not  going  to  be  able  to  pass  the  Rigolets  before 
nightfall,  and  that  indeed  they  might  be  forced  to 
anchor  off  the  mouth  of  Pearl  River  to  await  a 
change  of  wind.  The  thought  was  anything  but 
pleasant. 

Already  the  sun  was  slipping  down  the  west,  and 
every  minute  the  breeze  became  more  unfavorable 
and  also  more  fickle,  puffing  irregularly  and  at 
times  threatening  to  cease  altogether. 

The  negro  sailors  were  working  hard  and  with  a 
great  deal  of  adroitness  to  make  the  most  of  the 
situation  ;  for  they  were  not  unaware  of  the  danger 
to  them  in  spending  a  night  in  the  track  of  the 
Pearl  River  vessels.  To  them  the  thought  of  falling 
into  the  hands  of  pirates  or  slave- thieves  had  all  the 


AN   UNKNOWN    SCHOONER.  65 

force  of  romantic  terror  possible  to  their  savage 
imagination. 

Fairfax,  in  blissful  ignorance  of  any  special  sig- 
nificance attaching  to  the  situation,  abandoned  him- 
self to  the  pleasure  of  looking  into  Pauline's  face 
and  listening  to  her  voice.  In  some  sweet  way  the 
girl's  grace  and  beauty,  her  smiles,  her  voice,  her 
proud,  yet  unconscious  air  of  security,  her  mobility 
and  her  indescribable  shy  boldness,  so  to  call  it, 
seemed  to  Fairfax  to  be  the  center  of  expression  for 
the  sea,  the  sky  and  the  air ;  she  was  to  him  the 
interpretation  of  the  great,  mysterious  dream  of 
nature. 

Pauline  may  have  been  quite  as  unconscious  of 
the  young  man's  admiration  as  she  appeared  to  be  ; 
but,  doubtless,  some  satisfying  sense  of  her  influence 
upon  him  stole  through  her  mind,  a  waft  from  that 
wonderland  of  experience,  toward  which  it  is  the 
blessed  privilege  of  every  maiden  to  drift,  half 
expecting,  half  doubting. 

They  were  both  under  the  influence  of  a  very 
tender  and  beautiful,  yet  indistinct,  mood,  which 
made  it  altogether  delightful  to  sit  or  stand  near 
each  other  and  merely  play  with  the  outer  fringe  of 
sentiment,  wliile  the  Water- Bird  slipped  gently 
along  between  the  yellow  marshes. 

Suddenly  a  sail,  shining  as  white  as  snow  in  the 
now  almost  level  rays  of  the  sun,  separated  itself 
from  a  clump  of  oaks  on  a  distant  hummock,  and 
appeared  to  slip  forth  across  a  level,  grassy  marsh. 

All  hands  on  deck  saw  it  at  once.  Mr.  Vernon 
sent  below  for  his  glass.  A  moment  later,  Mrs. 


66  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

Vernon  came  up.  She  watched  her  husband  who, 
despite  his  age  and  bulk,  was  climbing  with  sur- 
prising nimbi  eness  aloft  in  order  to  have  a  clear 
view  of  the  approaching  sail.  It  proved  to  be  a 
schooner  coming  down  Pearl  River  into  Borgne  ; 
he  could  not  make  out  its  further  description  ;  but 
it  appeared  to  be  a  fast  little  craft,  well  manned 
and  admirably  handled.  Although  the  breeze  was 
puffy,  it  favored  the  stranger  and  she  seemed  to  be 
skimming  along  very  briskly  and  steadily. 

Mr.  Vernon  came  down  out  of  the  rigging  and 
gave  some  orders  in  an  undertone  to  the  man 
at  the  tiller,  then  he  passed  forward,  speaking  in 
the  same  tone  to  the  other  black  sailors. 

Fairfax  caught  at  once  the  meaning  of  this  quiet 
work,  and  when  Mr.  Vernon  came  to  the  ladies 
and  said  :  "  You  had  better  go  below  for  a  while, 
we  shall  need  all  the  deck-room  to  work  the  sails," 
there  was  more  in  his  manner  than  his  wife  and 
daughter  noticed. 

Mrs.  Vernon  objected  to  being  confined  again  in 
the  stuffy  little  cabin  just  when  she  was  beginning 
to  enjoy  the  sweet  fragrance  of  the  open  air  ;  but 
Fairfax  assisted  her  and  Pauline  to  descend  and 
then  returned  to  the  deck. 

"  I  wanted  to  avoid  a  scene,"  said  Mr.  Vernon,  "  and 
I  don't  like  the  appearance  of  the  fellow  yonder," 
pointing  at  the  sail.  "  It's  no  use  for  us  to  try  to 
run  away  ;  you  see  that  at  a  glance.  Of  course  she 
may  be  all  right  ;  but  I  don't  like  her  looks  nor  the 
place  she  is  coming  from.  At  any  rate,  we've  got 
to  take  our  chance." 


AN   UNKNOWN    SCHOONER.  67 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  suspect  her  of 
being  a  pirate  ?" 

'•  It  is  safe  to  suspect  everything  that  comes  out 
of  Pearl  River  of  being  in  some  way  connected 
with  wrongdoing  ;  but  still,  this  may  be  the  excep- 
tion." 

"  We'd  better  get  ready  to  fight,  then,"  said  Fair- 
fax. "  Have  you  no  arms  on  board  ?"  At  the 
same  time  his  eyes  sought  the  little  swivel  that 
stood  nearly  amidship.  "  Is  that  gun  in  condition  ?" 

Mr.  Vernon  could  not  help  laughing  in  his  beard 
at  the  young  man's  prompt  combativeness  and  his 
admirable  coolness,  and  he  felt  a  pang  of  regret 
when  he  had  to  say  frankly  that  it  would  be 
sheer  desperation  to  attempt  resistance,  should  the 
schooner  prove  to  be  one  of  the  Pearl-River  pirates 
bent  upon  their  capture. 

"  They  are  carrying  at  least  three  guns,"  he 
added,  "  and  I  counted  ten  men  of  their  crew ; 
besides,  they  could  sail  right  up  to  us  and  board  us." 

A  cloud  passed  over  the  young  man's  face,  and  a 
sudden  realization  of  what  might  be  at  hand  went 
down  like  a  leaden  load  upon  his  heart.  The  first 
thought  was  what  would  befall  Pauline.  He  stood 
for  a  few  moments  like  one  who  had  received  an 
almost  stunning  blow.  Mr.  Vernon  watched  him 
narrowly  and  was  inwardly  delighted  when  pres- 
ently he  shook  off  his  weakness  and  exclaimed  : 

"  But  what  are  we  to  do  ?  Are  we  to  let  them 
take  us,  if  they  wish,  without  our  making  any 
resistance  ?  For  my  part,  sir,  I  do  not  consent  to 
any  such  a  thing.  We  can  but  add  a  very  little 


68  THE   KING    OP   HONEY   ISLAND. 

fury  to  their  manner  of  dealing  with  us  by  fighting 
them  like  men.  Earnestly,  sir,  I  insist  on  meeting 
this  matter  bravely." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Mr.  Vernon,  "  but  the  question  is  : 
What  course  would,  in  reality,  be  true  bravery  ?  I 
have  no  shot  on  board  for  the  swivel,  and  what 
could  you  and  I  do  against  a  schooner's  crew." 

"You  have  done  very  wrong,"  said  Fairfax, 
almost  hotly,  "  to  bring  your  family  into  this  situa- 
tion. It  was  a  great  oversight  not  to  prepare  for 
such  an  emergency." 

Mr.  Vernon  eyed  his  young  friend,  but  made  no 
direct  reply  to  his  hasty  words.  He  saw  that  he 
could  depend  upon  him  in  desperate  need,  and  this 
was  the  most  and  the  best  that  he  could  ask  just 
then. 

"  There  will  probably  be  a  light  fog  at  nightfall  ; 
if  we  can  give  them  the  slip  till  then  we  may  be 
able  to  get  away  ;  it  is  our  only  chance,  provided 
they  are  enemies.  They  have  a  long  run  to  make 
yet  before  they  get  into  the  lake  ;  meantime,  if  we 
can  pass  the  point  yonder  and  find  the  mouth  of  the 
Rigolets  and  the  fog  at  the  same  time,  we  may 
escape." 

It  was  a  well  laid  plan  ;  but  the  wind  was  refrac- 
tory, shifting  and  growing  more  unreliable  every 
moment. 

Fairfax  could  not  understand  Mr.  Vernon's 
apparent  indifference  ;  it  was  so  opposed  to  what 
his  own  nature  prompted  under  such  a  stress  that  it 
exasperated  him,  while,  at  the  same  time,  he  felt 
his  own  inability  to  suggest  anything  feasible. 


AN   UNKNOWN    SCHOONER.  69 

Meantime,  their  little  craft  had  been  set  as  close 
to  the  wind  as  she  could  run,  and  was  making  fair 
speed  in  a  northwesterly  course  toward  a  marsh  point 
which,  in  those  days,  had  a  hummock  clothed  with 
low,  spreading  live-oaks.  The  fog  was  already 
beginning  to  fill  the  atmosphere  with  a  thin,  gray 
twilight  effect,  and  the  distant  schooner's  sails  were 
softening  into  dimness  ;  but  the  breeze  slackened 
until  it  could  be  scarcely  felt ;  moreover,  as  they 
crept  behind  the  point,  even  this  breath  was  shut 
off,  and  suddenly  it  was  a  dead  calm. 

Mr.  Vernon  ordered  his  men  to  cast  anchor,  and 
then,  lighting  his  pipe,  he  went  up  to  Fairfax,  who 
was  tramping  back  and  forth,  chafing  helplessly. 

"  They  can't  reach  us  till  morning,  at  all  events," 
he  said  ;  "  it  will  be  all  that  they  can  do  to  get  out 
of  the  river." 

"  And  so  all  that  we  can  hope  for  is  to  lie  here  and 
wait,"  Fairfax  muttered,  "  and  be  done  for  in  the 
morning.  It  seems  to  me  a  tame  way  for  men  who 
pretend  to  have  any  courage  to  choose.  Surely, 
there  is  some — " 

"  Young  man,"  Mr.  Vernon's  voice  was  very  even 
and  low,  as  he  interrupted,  but  it  had  a  certain  sav- 
age timbre — "  young  man,  you  are  on  my  vessel  ;  it 
is  your  duty  to  obey  my  orders  ;  you  are  going  to 
obey  them.  If  you  have  any  suggestions  to  make  I 
will  give  them  consideration  ;  but  understand  that 
I  command  here,  and  that  you  do  not  occupy  any 
official  position  whatever." 

Fairfax  stood  amazed  ;  he  looked  at  Mr.  Vernon's 
almost  giant  bulk  looming  in  the  gray  dusk  ;  it  ap- 


70  THE   KING   OF    HONEY    ISLAND. 

peared  to  dilate  and  take  on  the  rugged  outlines 
that  his  imagination  would  have  given  to  some  old 
buccaneer.  The  remote  arrogance  and  the  imme- 
diate authority  with  which  the  surprising  words  had 
been  uttered  seemed  to  come  from  a  man  not  in  the 
least  like  the  Mr.  Vernon  of  yesterday.  It  was  as  if 
the  man's  nature  had  suddenly  reverted  to  a  state 
once  its  normal  one  and  stood  ready  to  assert  by 
sheer  force  an  ancient  supremacy.  Fairfax  felt  the 
sting  of  the  situation,  and  at  the  same  time  his  judg- 
ment came  to  his  aid.  There  could  be  no  denying 
Mr.  Vernon's  right  to  command  his  own  vessel. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  he  managed  to  say  ; 
"you  are  mistaken  if  you  think  me  ungrateful 
enough  to  offer  any  impertinent  objections  to  your 
method  of  conducting  your  own  affairs.  I  did  not 
mean  anything  of  the  kind." 

He  hated  himself  the  next  moment  for  having 
found  no  better  way  of  expressing  what,  after  all, 
was  not  very  clear  in  his  own  mind  ;  but  his  embar> 
rassment  was  not  in  the  least  relieved  when  Mr. 
Vernon,  with  a  gruff  chuckle,  turned  abruptly  away 
and  went  below. 

Fairfax  looked  around  him,  half  dazed. 

Fairfax  was  not  in  a  mood  to  doubt  and  accuse. 
His  recent  experiences  had  opened  his  eyes  to  the 
darkest  possibilities  of  the  life  into  which  he  had  been 
suddenly  drawn  so  deeply.  The  feeling  that  he  had 
not  managed  himself  in  the  least  adroitly,  and  that 
probably  he  had  shown  his  weakest  side  to  Mr.  Ver- 
non, helped  to  irritate  him  ;  moreover,  the  danger, 
if  danger  it  was,  hovering  so  near  to  Pauline  affect- 


AN   UNKNOWN   SCHOONER.  71 

ed  him  strangely.  This  young  girl  had  taken 
possession  of  him  ;  he  realized  it  now.  And  was  he 
about  to  see  her  fall  into  the  hands  of  men  like 
Pierre  Rameau  ? 

Mr.  Vernon  did  not  come  on  deck  for  some  hours; 
when  he  re-appeared  a  light  breath  of  wind  was 
beginning  to  blow,  and  he  immediately  ordered  all 
hands  to  make  ready  to  put  the  vessel  under  sail. 

The  fog,  though  not  so  dense  as  it  had  been,  was 
still  too  heavy  to  permit  any  distinct  view  through 
it.  When  the  little  craft  began  to  move,  Mr.  Ver- 
non went  forward.  As  he  passed  Fairfax,  he  said 
in  a  low  voice  : 

"  Stand  by  to  pass  my  orders  to  the  man  at  the 
tiller  ;  we  must  not  speak  above  our  breath.  If  we 
can  get  through  to  the  lake,  we  are  safe." 

By  the  lake,  he  meant  Ponchartrain,  and  their  way 
thither  lay  through  the  main  channel  of  the  Rigo- 
lets. 

So  gently  did  the  vessel  move  that  the  ladies 
sleeping  below  did  not  wake  ;  the  only  sounds  to 
be  heard  were  an  occasional  creak  of  cord  or  spar 
and  the  light  ripple  of  the  water  at  the  prow. 

Mr.  Vernon  was  feeling  his  way  toward  the  mouth 
of  the  channel  with  nothing  to  guide  him  save  his 
sense  of  distances  and  directions.  The  wind  was 
somewhat  against  him  and  there  was  not  an  object 
by  which  he  could  exactly  fix  his  whereabouts.  So 
weak  was  the  breeze,  moreover,  that  the  vessel 
crept  at  but  a  snail's  pace  over  the  darkling  water. 
It  was  near  daylight ;  indeed,  the  pale  influence  of 
the  morning  was  diffusing  itself  through  the  fog 


72  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

when  the  breeze  began  to  freshen  a  little,  sending 
a  ripple  over  Borgne  and  quickening  the  move- 
ment of  the  vessel.  The  soft,  gray  vail  •wavered 
and  lifted  perceptibly,  and  Mr.  Vernon  had  just 
made  out  the  marsh-points  at  the  moutn  of  the  chan- 
nel and  was  giving  a  low  order,  when  suddenly  a 
vessel,  distant  a  stone's  throw,  showed  itself  through 
the  fog  directly  ahead,  and  at  the  same  instant 
"  Ahoy,  there  !"  came  in  a  loud,  clear  voice  from 
the  stranger's  deck. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

LIEUTENANT     BALLANCHE. 

There  was  little  space  for  action  on  the  part  of 
Mr.  Vernon,  between  the  moment  when  his  vessel 
was  hailed  and  that  when  it  was  necessary  for  him 
to  answer.  In  shorter  time  than  we  take  to  write 
it,  the  two  crafts  were  almost  touching. 

"  Avast,  or  I'll  blow  you  out  of  the  water  !"  shouted 
a  voice  not  in  the  least  nautical,  but  full  of  deter- 
mination ;  the  voice  of  a  landsman,  who,  if  he  could 
not  readily  find  the  phraseology  of  the  sea,  was  evi- 
dently in  no  mood  to  be  trifled  with. 

At  the  same  time  a  twelve-pounder  gun  was 
turned  so  as  to  rake  the  deck  of  the  Water-Bird. 

"  Blow  away,  Lieutenant  Ballanche  !"  roared  Mr. 
Vernon.  "  It  would  be  a  glorious  thing  to  fire  on 
me  and  my  family  !  Ha  !  Ha  !  Ha  !  Blow  away  ! 
Blow  away  !" 

The  little  vessel  was  now  passing  astern  of  the 
schooner  and  not  a  half  cable's  length  from  it. 

"  Hello  !  Is  that  you,  Mr.  Vernon  ?"  shouted  the 
slim  young  officer  who  stood  out  most  prominently 
on  the  schooner's  deck.  He  spoke  in  French. 

"Aye,  that  it  is  !"  was   the  loud   answer  in  the 

[73] 


4  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

same  language.  "  I  thought  we  should  ram  you 
amidship,  but  we  missed,  good  luck  to  you  and  to 
us  as  well !" 

"  I  wish  to  speak  with  you,  sir,"  called  out  the 
young  officer.  "  It  is  very  important." 

The  two  vessels  were  already  going  apart  rapidly, 
their  courses  being  different  ;  but  every  word  was 
heard,  so  favorable  was  everything  to  the  convey., 
ance  of  sounds. 

Fairfax  felt  a  load  fall  from  his  breast  at  this  sud- 
den turn  in  an  adventure  which  but  a  moment 
before  had  filled  him  with  such  dismay  as  only 
youth  and  love  and  the  thought  of  swift  calamity  to 
the  one  most  dear  to  him  could  engender.  In  the 
stress  of  the  apparent  crisis  he  had  thought  only  of 
the  girl  ;  and  now  that  the  strain  was  over,  it  seemed 
to  him  as  if  the  same  breath  that  had  blown  away 
his  distress  on  Pauline's  account  had  also  lifted  the 
fog  ;  for  the  next  moment  the  gray  vail  was  so 
removed  that  the  young  officer  on  board  the 
schooner  came  into  clear  relief  against  the  tall 
marsh  grass  on  the  point  beyond.  His  features 
could  not  be  made  out ;  but  his  form  was  tall,  slen- 
der, graceful,  and  his  attitude  striking  in  the 
extreme.  He  wore  the  undress  uniform  of  a  lieu- 
tenant of  infantry  in  the  United  States  Army. 

A  half-hour  later,  the  two  vessels  lay  alongside 
of  each  other,  and  Lieutenant  Ballanche  came 
aboard  of  the  Water-Bird.  Fairfax  watched  him 
climb  the  rope  from  the  gig  to  the  deck  ;  and  at  the 
request  of  Mr.  Vernon  went  forward  to  be  intro- 
duced to  him. 


LIEUTENANT  BALLANCHE.  75 

The  two  young  men  shook  hands  and  their  eyes 
met  steadily  and  frankly.  Any  shrewd  observer 
would  have  said  that  they  were  mutually  well 
impressed  at  first  glance. 

Edouard  Ballanche  was  a  Creole  from  head  to 
foot ;  that  is,  he  was  a  Frenchman  modified  by  the 
influences  of  American  birth  and  experience.  In 
his  face  burned  the  half-subdued  fire  of  a  passion- 
ate yet  naturally  gentle  and  tender  nature,  fortified 
and  specialized  by  intimate  acquaintance  with 
almost  every  form  of  danger.  You  might  have 
read  in  his  eyes  that  he  had  seen  duels ;  that  life, 
though  precious  to  him,  was  worn  as  a  garment  to 
be  flung  aside  as  lightly  as  a  coat  or  glove  ;  that 
honor  was  a  word  of  unlimited  significance  to  him. 
In  speech  he  showed  that  deliberate  facility  which 
always  suggests  the  cut  and  thrust  and  parry  of  a 
master  swordsman.  The  impression  he  made  was 
one  of  efficiency,  courage  and  readiness,  singularly 
blended  with  lightness,  grace  and  superficial  good 
humor. 

He  shook  hands  cordially  with  Mr.  Vernon,  and 
turned  to  acknowledge  the  introduction  of  Fairfax 
just  as  Pauline  came  from  below. 

"  I  took  you  for  a  pirate,"  said  Mr.  Vernon,  "  and 
was  running  away  from  you  as  fast  as  I  could,  I 
thought  ;  but  here  we  are,  boarded  by  you,  and  at 
your  mercy." 

"  The  mistake  was  mutual,  sir  ;  I  thought  that 
you  were  on  unlawful  business  of  some  sort,  and 
have  been  all  night  afraid  that  you  had  got  away 
from  me.  I  am  compelled  to  be  vigilant  now ; 


76  THE   KING   OF    HONEY    ISLAND, 

I  hope,  sir,  that  I  have  not  troubled  you  too 
greatly. 

"  Your  vigilance  is  something  that  no  American 
patriot  can  grumble  at,"  said  Mr.  Vernon.  "  Is 
there  anything  new  from  the  seat  of  war  ?  Any- 
thing about  to  turn  up  ?'' 

"  Nothing  has  been  made  public,"  replied  the 
lieutenant,  guardedly.  "  What  may  transpire  at 
any  moment  is  hard  to  foresee  ;  doubtless  we  shall 
have  our  turn  at  the  game  of  war  down  here  in  due 
time." 

"  You  may  speak  freely  in  the  presence  of  my 
friend  here,"  remarked  Mr.  Vernon,  with  a  smile 
at  Ballanche's  caution,  concealed  almost  though  it 
was  ;  "  he  is  one  of  us." 

"  I  should  trust  him  with  my  life,"  promptly 
responded  the  lieutenant,  giving  Fairfax  again  that 
straight  frank  look  of  perfect  confidence.  "  What  I 
wanted  to  say  to  you,  Mr.  Vernon,  is  that  it  is  not 
safe  to  keep  your  family  or  your  property  any 
longer  at  Bay  Saint  Louis.  The  British  may  sail  in 
upon  us  any  day ;  indeed,  we  are  expecting  them 
soon." 

It  was  hard  for  Lieutenant  Ballanche,  with  all  his 
politeness,  to  keep  his  gaze  away  from  Pauline. 

Fairfax  was  not  aware  that  she  had  come  on 
deck,  else  he  would  have  noticed  the  suppressed 
enthusiasm  of  Ballanche's  glances  toward  the  hatch- 
way. 

As  soon  as  Mr.  Vernon  discovered  the  presence 
of  his  daughter,  he  took  Lieutenant  Ballanche  by 
the  arm  and  led  him  toward  her. 


LIEUTENANT   BALLANCHE.  77 

Fairfax  turned  in  time  to  see  the  tall  Creole  bow- 
ing low  over  her  hand. 

Mr.  Vernon  stood  there  like  some  grizzly  giant  of 
old,  his  shoulders  and  head  looming  heavily,  while 
his  daughter  seemed  to  reflect  upon  him  a  sugges- 
tion of  youthfulness  blending  with  his  show  of  years. 
Fairfax  saw  that  Mr.  Vernon  regarded  the  young 
officer  with  emphatic  interest  and  confidence,  gave 
him  distinguished  consideration  indeed,  and  that 
this  marked  attention  seemed  to  be  received  quite 
as  a  matter  of  course.  There  was  but  a  short  con- 
versation, and  certainly  nothing  important  was 
said  ;  nevertheless,  in  some  indirect  way  Fairfax 
caught  from  it  a  singularly  vivid  impression  of  being 
thrust  far  away  and  of  passing  out  of  consider- 
ation. 

After  a  little  while,  however,  Ballanche  bowed  to 
Pauline,  and,  taking  Mr.  Vernon 's  arm  with  a  con- 
fidential touch,  led  him  to  a  farther  part  of  the  deck 
where  they  could  converse  without  being  over- 
heard. 

Fairfax  turned  about,  and  with  folded  arms  stood 
apart,  scarcely  thinking,  but  wrapped  in  a  mood 
that  filled  the  air  about  him  with  confused  and 
indefinable  apprehensions.  He  was  not  aware  that 
Pauline  had  come  near  until  she  spoke,  and  then 
he  started  perceptibly  (to  himself,  if  not  to  her),  and 
looked  down  at  her  as  if  from  a  great  distance.  We 
must  remember  that  he  had  not  slept  during  the 
night  ;  this  might,  to  a  degree,  account  for  the 
unnatural  slowness  with  which  he  responded  to  the 
fresh,  almost  enthusiastic,  manner  of  the  girl,  as  she 


78  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

began  to  speak  of  the  sun-glories  that  shimmered 
over  the  lonely  marshes  of  the  Rigolets. 

Meantime,  Lieutenant  Ballanche  was  informing 
Mr.  Vernon  of  the  probability  that  a  British  fleet 
was  at  hand  to  co-operate  with  hostile  Indians  in  the 
effort  to  devastate  the  whole  country  from  Pensa- 
cola  to  New  Orleans,  and  that  in  the  latter  city 
there  was  need  of  wise  counsel  and  patriotic  effort 
to  counteract  the  influence  which  had  been  left  over 
from  the  treasonable  scheming  of  Aaron  Burr  and 
his  Southern  associates. 

"  Things  are  in  a  bad  condition,"  he  said,  "  and 
we  need  the  work  of  men  like  you,  Mr.  Vernon,  to 
bring  order  out  of  confusion,  and  to  urge  the  citizens 
to  a  proper  view  of  duty.  At  present,  the  most 
deplorable  indifference  as  to  the  outcome  of  affairs 
prevails  in  New  Orleans  ;  nobody  seems  to  realize 
our -dreadful  danger." 

"  The  government  seems  to  me  most  to  blame," 
remarked  Mr.  Vernon.  "  Instead  of  building  forti- 
fications and  fitting  out  such  vessels  as  can  be  had 
for  defense,  it  is  spending  most  of  its  time  and 
money  searching  for  imaginary  robbers  and  impos- 
sible pirates." 

"  It  is  true  that  our  defenses  are  of  no  value,  but 
you  are  wrong  in  thinking  that  our  outlaws  are 
imaginary.  I  have  just  been  up  Pearl  River  and  to 
Honey  Island,  where  robbers  are  more  numerous 
than  honest  citizens.  It  is  not  of  these,  how- 
ever, that  we  need  to  speak  ;  bad  as  they  are,  they 
are  less  dangerous  than  those  citizens,  ostensibly 
respectable  and  worthy,  who  use  their  apparent 


LIEUTENANT  BALLANCHE.  79 

social  superiority  as  a  cloak  to  hide  the  villainies 
they  encourage." 

Ballanche  spoke  with  an  earnestness  amounting 
almost  to  vehemence,  and  by  the  half  closing  of  his 
eyes  and  a  certain  immobility  of  all  his  features,  his 
face  took  on  an  intensely  resolute  expression. 

Mr.  Vemon  looked  calmly  at  him,  as  if  by  a  sort 
of  masterful  scrutiny  he  could  read  his  inmost 
thoughts  and  draw  from  them  a  more  comprehen- 
sive meaning  than  the  speaker  himself  realized  in 
them.  Presently  he  said  : 

"  You  may  be  right,  lieutenant ;  but,  for  my  part, 
I  see  many  sides  to  the  question.  New  Orleans  and 
Louisiana  owe  very  little  to  any  government,  save 
that  which  they  themselves  represent.  Understand, 
nevertheless,  that  I  am  for  allegiance  to  the  govern- 
ment at  Washington,  or  at  whatever  other  place  the 
United  States  councils  may  meet,  and  that  I  am  for 
a  rigorous  defense  of  New  Orleans  against  any 
British  force  that  may  come  ;  but  I  should  advise 
careful  speaking  when  it  comes  to  characterizing 
our  citizens  as  encouragers  of  villainies." 

"  But  perhaps,  sir,  you  do  not  know  the  condition 
of  things  in  New  Orleans." 

"  Lieutenant,  I  do  know.  How  could  I  help 
knowing  ?  I  knew  before  you  were  born  ;  I  have 
know  ever  since  ;  I  know  now." 

Ballanche  made  a  slight,  quick  movement  and 
something  like  an  almost  invisible  flush  leaped  into 
his  olive-brown  cheeks.  Mr.  Vernon's  voice  had 
been  so  deep  and  powerful  and  his  attitude  so  sug- 
gestive of  virile  or  leonine  superiority  that  the 


80  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

young  man  had  felt  a  shock,  which  for  the  moment 
confused  him. 

"  What  reliable  word  have  you  that  a  British  fleet 
is  near  here  ?"  Mr.  Vernon  continued,  his  manner 
changing  to  one  of  mere  inquiry. 

"None.  The  activity  of  the  Indians  and  the 
presence  of  foreign  emissaries  among  the  tribes 
seem  to  indicate,  however,  that  a  strong  movement 
is  to  be  made." 

"  And  what  did  you  succeed  in  doi»g  toward  sup- 
pressing the  Pearl-River  robbers?"  Mr.  Vernon 
presently  asked. 

"  Of  course,  I  did  nothing — nothing  seems  possible 
in  the  matter  at  present — but  I  found  out  a  good 
deal  about  them,  and  have  been  thinking  over  a 
plan  by  which  it  might  be  possible  to  serve  both 
them  and  the  country." 

"  That  would  be  a  singular  achievement,  I  should 
say." 

"  Yes,  at  first  thought,  it  would  appear  so  ;  but  I 
believe  it  can  be  done." 

Mr.  Vernon  stood  waiting  for  the  lieutenant  to 
explain  ;  but  he  did  not  urge  him  to  proceed  even 
by  a  look. 

"  If  amnesty  were  tendered  to  all  of  the  outlaws 
who  should  join  our  military  forces  and  do  service 
for  the  country,  I  believe  that  most  of  them  would 
accept  the  offer  in  good  faith.  At  all  events,  I  am 
going  to  lay  the  matter  before  the  governor." 

Mr.  Vernon  made  no  remark  ;  he  stood  in  the 
attitude  of  a  respectful  listener  whose  mind  had  run 
ahead  of  what  his  companion  had  been  saying  ;  and 


LIEUTENANT     BALLANCDE.  81 

when  Lieutenant  Ballanche  looked  into  his  strange, 
tleep  eyes,  they  were  quite  inscrutable. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  the  plan  ?"  the  young  man 
inquired.  "  Is  it  not  worth  trying  ?" 

"  It  may  be  ;  but  what  do  you  know  of  the  feeling 
among  the  freebooters  themselves  on  the  subject  ?" 

"  I  have  some  reason  to  believe  that  most  of  them 
would  be  glad  to  quit  the  life  of  outlaws.  If  the 
leaders  can  be  reached  the  thing  can  be  accom- 
plished, I  am  almost  sure." 

"  Who  are  the  leaders  ?" 

"  It  is  not  easy  to  find  out.  Of  course  Lafitte  has 
all  the  Baratarian  pirates  under  his  thumb.  But, 
although  the  mysterious  Pierre  Rameau  is  called 
King  of  Honey  Island,  I  have  found  out  to  my  sat- 
isfaction that  there  is  one  above  him  in  command 
of  the  great  Pearl  River  and  inland  organization  ; 
and  that  one  lives  in  New  Orleans,  directing  the 
proceedings  from  his  safe  position  in  the  midst  of 
the  highest  society  of  the  city." 

"  And  who  is  he  ?" 

"  I  think  that  I  know,  but  I  cannot  yet  breathe 
his  name  in  this  connection  ;  it  would  create  a  wild 
scene,  I  can  assure  you,  sir," 

Mr.  Vernon  folded  his  arms  high  upon  his  broad 
chest  and  appeared  to  lift  himself  until  he  showed 
taller  than  even  the  tall  Creole. 

"  If  you  begin  to  stir  up  records  in  New  Orleans," 
he  remarked,  "  you  will  soon  have  a  heavy  load  on 
your  hands.  My  own  opinion  is  that  nothing  wilt 
be  gained  by  any  negotiations  with  pirates.  The 
country  can  fight  its  battles  without  them." 


82  THE   KING    OF    HONEY   ISLAND. 

"  To  do  without  outlaws  of  one  sort  or  another," 
said  Ballanche,  "  would  be  to  enlist  very  few  men  in 
Louisiana." 

"  Perhaps." 

"At  all  events,  I  shall  make  my  report  to  the 
governor,  and  he  may  do  as  he  shall  see  fit." 

"Are  you  sure  that  the  governor  himself  is 
entirely  clear  of  entanglement  with  the  powerful 
alliance  of  freebooters  ?" 

Again  the  eyes  of  the  lieutenant  became  sharp 
and  searching  as  he  scanned  Mr.  Vernon's  massive 
face,  and  said  : 

"  Do  you  suspect  him  ?" 

"  Humph  !"  with  a  shrug,  was  the  only  answer 
Mr.  Vernon  gave.  It  was  as  if  the  ejaculation  were 
meant  to  toss  Ballanche  aside. 

A  half -hour  later  the  young  officer  took  his  leave. 

"  Au  revoir  /"  he  called  from  the  gig  as  his  crew 
pulled  away  toward  the  schooner.  His  farewell 
comprehended  the  whole  group  on  the  Water-Bird's 
deck  ;  and  yet  he  was  looking  straight  at  Pauline. 
Fairfax  noticed  this,  but  seeing  him  going  farther 
and  farther  away,  while  Pauline  seemed  quite  con- 
tent to  stay  where  she  was,  the  artist  smiled  very 
complacently. 

Mr.  Vernon  ordered  the  vessel  put  under  sail  at 
once,  speaking  to  his  black  men  with  an  intonation 
that  suggested  impatience  or  great  haste. 

The  most  careless  observer  could  have  seen  that 
something  in  the  conversation  between  him  and 
Lieutenant  Ballanche  had  stimulated  him  ;  but 
whether  with  anger  or  some  other  passion  no  one 


LIEUTENANT  BALLANCHE.  83 

could  have    determined    from  his    appearance  or 
actions. 

Up  through  the  Rigolets  the  little  vessel  went, 
with  a  fair  breeze  and  in  as  golden  sunlight  as  ever 
drove  away  a  fog.  The  channel,  a  broad  and  beau- 
tiful river  connecting  Lake  Borgne  with  Lake  Pont- 
chartrain,  flashed  like  silver  between  its  grassy 
marsh  meadows,  over  which  the  herons  and  wild 
geese,  the  pelicans  and  the  plovers  flew  back  and 
forth  like  shuttles  through  the  warp  of  the  dreamy 
weather.  Here  and  there,  scattered  from  distance 
to  distance,  picturesque  clumps  of  live-oaks  were 
set  against  the  almost  violet  sky  like  orchards  on  a. 
prairie. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

CHATEAU   D'OR   AND   COLONEL   LORING. 

Mr.  Vernon's  house  in  New  Orleans,  was,  perhaps, 
the  most  pretentious  residence  place  in  the  city. 
Built  of  gray  brick,  it  stood  well  back  from  the 
street,  in  the  midst  of  old  trees.  Its  broad  varandas 
and  high-hipped  dormer-windows,  showing  but 
duskily  forth  through  the  foliage,  which  almost  hid 
the  balconies  and  oriels  between,  were  solid  and 
lieavy.  The  whole  structure  was  massive  ar>d 
solemn-looking,  giving  the  general  impression  of 
exclusiveness  and  lofty  loneliness.  Under  the  live- 
oak  and  magnolia-boughs  were  long,  crepuscular 
vistas,  closed  by  clumps  and  clusters  of  orange-trees 
burdened  with  yellow  fruit.  Along  the  high  brick 
wall  that  compassed  the  close  grew  masses  of  vines 
incomparably  thick  and  rich,  and  everywhere  the 
mocking-birds  sang  both  by  day  and  by  night.  It 
was  a  home  typically  Southern. 

A  carriage-way,  closed  by  a  double  iron  gate, 
passed  between  two  stuccoed  walls  for  a  little  dis- 
tance and  gave  into  a  paved  court,  semicircular  in 
shape,  the  chord  of  which  was  the  irregular  outline 
[84] 


CHATEAU    D'OR    AND    COLONEL    LOEINO.  85 

of  one  side  of  the  house.  Entrance  to  the  close 
beyond  this  court  was  obtained  by  a  door  of  wire 
lattice  set  in  the  street- wall  directly  in  front  of  the 
steps  leading  up  to  the  main  hall,  where  two  huge 
brick  and  stucco  columns,  heavily  fluted,  rose  to 
support  the  roof  of  the  veranda. 

The  grounds  were  large  and  everywhere  showed 
that  neither  money  nor  care  had  been  grudgingly 
spent  to  add  beauty  and  comfort  to  the  place.  From 
base  to  roof,  the  house  suggested  in  every  angle  and 
curve  the  wealth,  pride  and  taste  of  its  owner  ;  but 
it  also  suggested  more  ;  the  peculiar  civilization 
grown  out  of  the  old  Louisiana  colonial  life  and  out 
of  the  strange  vicissitudes  and  exigencies  of  the 
development  of  New  Orleans  spoke  through  the 
architecture  and  surroundings.  There  were  flowers 
everywhere,  especially  roses  and  cactuses,  making 
the  dusky  air  flash  with  colors — blended  perfumes 
coming  and  going  with  the  wind-pulses  and  all 
around  and  above  the  soft,  satin  rustle  of  leaves. 

Mr.  Vernon  had  named  his  place  Chateau  d'Or. 
He  liked  the  name,  he  said,  because  a  vessel  that 
brought  him  good  luck  had  borne  it ;  but  he  never 
told  what  the  good  luck  was  or  what  had  become  of 
the  vessel.  It  seemed  to  delight  him  no  little  when 
he  was  able  to  excite  curiosity  on  this  subject,  only 
to  leave  it  altogether  unsatisfied.  The  name,  in 
accordance  with  a  custom  still  lingering  in  the  cre- 
ole  country,  was  set  in  large  letters  over  the  gate, 
and  still  higher  up  was  the  sketch  of  a  ship  undet 
full  sail. 

The  Vernou  household  was  well  known  to  almost 


86  THE  KING   OP    HONEY   ISLAND. 

everybody  in  the  city ;  that  is,  the  place  and  the 
family  name  were  familiar  to  the  ears  and  eyes  of 
the  people  ;  but  there  were  comparatively  few  per- 
sons who  had  gained  anything  like  a  "visiting 
acquaintance  "  with  the  family.  The  circle  of  .Mrs. 
Vernon's  friends  was,  however,  as  select  as  it  was 
small  ;  and  as  for  Pauline,  she  had  but  recently  ven- 
tured into  society  without  the  formalities  of  a  set 
dtbut.  Mr.  Vernon  himself  was,  without  being  what 
we  call  a  public  man,  a  leader  of  the  people.  His 
influence  was  as  powerful  as  it  was  general,  and  it 
was  exerted  without  effort  and,  apparently,  without 
ambition  on  his  part.  His  long  residence  in  Louisi- 
ana, his  personal  force  and  his  great  wealth  had  com- 
bined to  give  him  this  hold  upon  the  people  from 
highest  to  lowest,  and  yet  no  one  could  say  that  he 
was  easily  approached.  He  took  no  public  part  in 
the  affairs  of  the  State  or  the  city  ;  but  his  influence 
was  always  sought  when  matters  of  grave  import- 
ance demanded  the  use  of  specially  sound  judgment, 
or  when  the  more  unmanageable  element  of  the 
people  had  to  be  perfectly  controlled.  He  seemed 
to  possess  the  confidence  of  all  the  races  and  clans 
of  men  in  the  city  and,  by  some  power,  was  able  to 
command  them. 

When  Mrs.  Vernon  and  Pauline  found  themselves 
once  more  in  Chateau  d'Or  they  were  as  happy  as  it 
is  ever  possible  for  a  mother  and  her  daughter  to  be. 
Their  stay  at  Bay  Saint  Louis  had  (although  they 
were  probably  not  aware  of  it)  been  a  powerful  tonic 
and  in  vigor  at  or. 

Pauline  went  about  the  house  and  grounds  sing- 


CHATEAU    D'OR   AND   COLONEL    LORINO.  57 

ing  like  a  happy  bird,  her  face  radiant,  her  step 
light  and  her  heart  brimming  with  half-formed 
dreams.  There  was  nothing  in  all  her  circle  of 
vision  to  shade  or  to  mar  the  golden  promise  that 
filled  it  like  the  soft  splendor  of  springtime.  She 
knew  nothing  of  life's  evils — not  even  the  plethora 
so  often  attending  unlimited  access  to  the  luxuries 
of  wealth  had  ever  come  to  her — and  the  abound- 
ing good  in  her  experience  only  urged  her  into  a 
rich  development,  a  radiant  blooming,  so  to  call  it, 
which  made  her  beauty  of  face  and  of  form  come 
out  like  the  blowing  of  a  rose. 

The  city  was  very  gay  when  the  Vernons  came 
back  to  it,  and  Pauline  found  herself  caught  in  the 
whirl  like  a  butterfly  in  a  June  breeze.  There  was 
the  theatre,  there  were  the  balls,  the  receptions* 
the  excursions  to  the  country-seats  of  wealthy 
planters — nothing  was  wanting  that  would  keep  her 
spirits  at  full  flood ;  and  there  was  the  library  at 
Chateau  d'Or,  where  the  romances  that  she  loved  so 
Nearly  filled  many  a  mahogany  shelf. 

Both  Fairfax  and  Lieutenant  Ballanche  had 
called  frequently  within  the  first  month,  and  she 
had  seen  them  often  at  the  theatres  and  at  balls 
and  receptions  given  by  her  friends.  They  had 
been  very  attentive  and  very  interesting  ;  each  in 
his  way  bringing  to  her  receptive  mind  fascinating- 
impressions  and  obscure,  haunting  visions  of  a 
great  world  of  experience  lying  quite  outside  of 
her  horizon.  The  young  men  were  so  different  in 
personal  appearance,  in  address,  in  habit  of  thought. 
in  temper  and  in  everything  that  goes  to  build  and 


88  THE   KING    OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

project  individual  character,  that  one  served  as  a 
foil  to  emphasize  the  other  at  almost  every  point. 

Pauline,  while  she  had  had  every  advantage  that 
wealth  could  bring  to  her  within  the  narrow  and 
isolated  circle  of  environment,  was  still  no  more 
than  a  provincial  girl  ;  and  her  limitations,  though 
they  probably  enhanced  to  a  degree  her  attractive- 
ness, restricted  her  vision  and  compressed  her 
understanding  in  some  measure.  A  society  girl  of 
to-day,  seeing  one  like  Pauline,  would  call  her 
strangely  unsophisticated  ;  still  she  was  not  less 
delighted  than  most  ladies  would  have  been  when 
her  mother  announced  that  it  was  her  purpose  to 
"  give  a  party,"  as  the  phrase  goes,  limiting  the 
invitations  mostly  to  young  people. 

When  the  evening  came,  with  the  grounds  and  the 
stately  house  brilliantly  lighted,  the  whole  interior 
wreathed  and  festooned  with  flowers  and  the  black 
servants  all  assigned  to  duty,  it  would  have  been 
hard  to  decide  which  was  the  more  radiantly  happy, 
Mrs.  Vernon  or  Pauline. 

All  the  windows  and  doors  were  open,  so  that  the 
gentle  May  winds  crept  through  to  stir  the  rich  cur- 
tains and  to  make  the  candles  in  the  many-armed 
candlesticks  wave  their  silvery  flames.  Some  of 
these  candles  were  made  of  myrtle- wax,  taken  from 
the  wild  berries,  after  a  local  custom  of  the  time, 
and  as  they  burned  they  sent  out  a  faint,  exquisitely 
pleasant  perfume,  at  once  wild  and  sweet. 

The  rather  somber  mansion  was  transformed  by 
lights  and  flowers  into  something  like  a  gorgeous 


CHATEAU   D'OR   AND   COLONEL    LORING.  89 

palace  ;  even  the  heavy,  black-mahogany  furniture 
caught  a  gleam  and  a  glow. 

Pauline  hugged  her  mother,  under  the  impulse  of 
a  swift  joy,  when  the  time  approached  for  the 
guests  to  begin  arriving. 

"  Isn't  it  all  beautiful  !"  she  exclaimed,  almost 
strangling  Mrs.  Vernon  with  her  snowy,  plump 
arms.  "And  I'm  so  very  happy!  See  how  the 
pictures  come  out,  and  how  the  statuary  gives  effect 
to  everything  !  And  the  stairway — how  the  fes- 
toons of  flowers  and  moss  have  changed  it  !  I 
wonder  who  will  be  the  first  guest  to  come  !" 

"  Mercy,  child  !  Do  you  wish  to  kill  your  poor 
mother !  See  how  you  are  spoiling  my  lace  and 
disarranging  my  hair  !  I  shall  not  be  presentable  !" 

But  Mrs.  Vernon's  arm  clasped  her  daughter's 
waist  and  gave  caress  for  caress  with  genuine  Creole 
vehemence. 

They  walked  from  room  to  room,  in  a  final  round 
of  review,  hand  in  hand,  and  commenting  vivaciously 
on  the  beauty  of  the  decorations. 

"  But  I  wonder  why  papa  doesn't  come  ?"  said 
Pauline  ;  "he  promised  to  be  in  by  eight." 

"  Some  affair  or  other  has  detained  him," 
answered  the  mother  ;  "  you  know  he  has  had  much 
to  look  after  since  we  returned.  We  have  scarcely 
had  an  hour  with  him  for  a  month  and  more." 

"  I  think  he  might  lay  aside  affairs  for  this  even- 
ing, at  least,  when  it  would  be  so  very  nice  to  have 
him." 

"  Oh,  but  he  will  be  here  in  good  time  ;   he  likes 


90  THE    KINO   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

such  a  thing  as  this  ;  he's  never  so  light  and  bright 
and  engaging  as  when  in  the  midst  of  a  company." 

"  And  you  are  so  beautiful  this  evening,  mamma. 
He  will  be  very  proud  of  you." 

"  Ah,  if  I  were  young  like  you,  you  might  say 
that  ;  but  I'm  not  going  to  flatter  you.  Do  you 
know,  Pauline,  that  it  is  positively  dangerous  for  a 
young  woman  to  think  herself  beautiful  ?" 

"  Why,  no  !  If  she  really  is  beautiful,  why  should 
she  not  be  perfectly  frank  in  acknowledging  her 
good  fortune  ?" 

They  were  passing  before  a  grand  mirror  set  in  a 
bronze  frame  ;  they  both  looked  in  and  stood  for 
a  moment  contemplating  themselves  as  reflected 
there. 

A  momentary  pensiveness  passed  over  Mrs. 
Vernon's  face  ;  but  Pauline  blushed  just  a  little  and 
smiled  with  an  expression  of  sincere  delight  as  she 
glanced  over  the  reflection  of  a  slender,  graceful 
girl  dressed  in  a  gown  of  clinging,  dull-white  bro- 
caded silk  with  a  fluff  of  delicate  lace  at  the  upper 
line  of  the  modestly  designed  corsage.  It  was  a 
radiant  face  that  threw  back  her  smile,  and  the 
white  arms  and  throat  with  their  curious  bracelets 
and  slender  pearl  necklace  shimmered  softly. 

At  this  moment,  Mr.  Vernon  came  in,  accom- 
panied by  a  tall,  swart  man.  The  two  went  directly 
upstairs  to  the  room  prepared  for  the  gentlemen's 
dressing-room,  but  returned  almost  immediately, 
when  Mr.  Vernon  presented  his  guest  to  the  ladies 
as  Col.  Philip  Loring. 

The  gentleman's  bearing  was  military,  soldierly 


CHATEAU   D'OR   AND   COLONEL   LORIXG.  91 

in  the  extreme,  and  his  form  and  face  suited  well 
the  air  of  studied  dignity  he  wore.  While  not 
strictly  handsome,  his  features  were  strong  and 
well-formed,  and  his  eyes  had  a  singular  power,  as 
if  of  concentration  and  steadiness.  He  was  bronzed 
by  exposure  to  wind  and  sun  until  his  face  was 
olive-brown,  although  it  could  be  seen  that  it  was 
not  naturally  dark,  and  there  was  a  white  scar,  a 
saber-cut  it  appeared,  running  in  a  slender  line 
across  a  part  of  his  left  cheek  and  ear.  His  neck  was 
corded  with  muscles  and  his  hands  were  shapely, 
large  and  sinewy. 

"You  have  a  lovely  home  here,  Mrs.  Vernon,"  he 
said,  speaking  French  with  a  curious  accent.  "  I 
have  been  telling  your  husband  that  he  lives  like  a 
grand  duke." 

Mrs.  Vernon  had  often  heard  her  husband  speak 
of  Colonel  Loring  as  one  of  his  most  trusted  friends  ; 
but  she  had  never  before  seen  him. 

His  smile,  as  he  looked  down  into  her  face,  was 
peculiarly  attractive,  albeit  there  was  in  it  some- 
thing remote  and  inexplicably  unsatisfactory. 

"  And  you,  mademoiselle,"  he  continued,  turning 
with  a  bow  to  Pauline,  "  must  be  as  happy  as  you 
look,  in  such  a  place  of  enchantment.  You  will  not 
charge  a  rough  old  saber  like  me  with  flattery  if  I 
tell  you  that  you  look  like  an  especially  dangerous 
fairy  in  a  most  alluring  bower." 

Pauline's  cheeks  showed  the  slightest  access  of 
pink  under  his  bold  yet  not  unpleasant  glance. 

"Your  father  and  I,"  he  added,  "  have  long  been 
great  friends,  and  I  account  it  one  of  my  far-apart 


92  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

pieces  of  good  fortune  to  be  here,  even  by  mere 
change,  to-night." 

"  My  father's  friend  is  my  friend,"  Pauline  said  ; 
and  she  could  not  have  accounted  for  the  embarrass- 
ment she  felt  in  delivering  this  bit  of  formality. 

'•  And  mine,"  joined  Mrs.  Vernon.  "  We  are  glad 
to  welcome  you  as  a  chance  guest  this  time,  and  we 
shall  be  proud  to  greet  you  as  a  privileged  one  here- 
after at  all  times." 

The  conversation  could  go  no  further  than  these 
stiff  commonplaces  characteristic  of  the  period  and 
the  place.  Guests  were  arriving,  and  Mrs.  Vernon 
and  Pauline  had  duties  to  meet  at  once.  They  both 
turned  away,  leaving  Colonel  Loring  standing,  tall, 
straight,  grimly  attractive,  beside  a  magnificent 
flowering  cactus  as  tall  and  strange  as  he.  Some- 
how they  took  his  face  with  them,  clearly  set  in 
their  minds,  and  the  scar  on  the  cheek  and  ear  was 
as  white  and  the  features  as  dark  and  magnetic  as 
in  the  original. 

Among  the  early  guests  was  Lieutenant  Ballanche. 
He  shook  hands  with  Mrs.  Vernon,  and,  after  a  few 
words,  passed  on  to  meet  Pauline. 

"  You  were  my  prisoner  the  other  morning.  I 
am  yours  this  evening,"  he  said,  with  a  happy  look 
and  referring,  of  course,  to  the  little  adventure  on 
Lake  Borgne.  "  But  you  will  be  generous,  I  know.'" 

He  did  not  look  so  tall  in  his  full-dress  uniform  as 
he  had  in  undress,  but  the  fine  high-bred  air  seemed 
to  be  more  pronounced. 

Pauline  had  seen  him  frequently  since  their  first 
meeting.  At  present,  however,  he  impressed  her  as 


CHATEAU   D'OR   AND   COLONEL   LOEING.  93 

much  handsomer  than  ever  before.  Not  that  she 
really  took  time  to  think  this.  It  was  the  impres- 
sion and  nothing  more. 

Fairfax  came  rather  late.  He  had  been  delayed 
on  his  way  by  a  queer  little  adventure  on  the  street 
— an  adventure  which,  although  at  the  time  it  ap- 
peared to  have  no  connection  with  his  future,  intro. 
duced  an  active  element  into  the  drama  of  his  life. 

At  the  entrance  to  a  dark  alley,  a  struggle  was 
going  on  between  two  persons,  and  Fairfax  heard, 
through  his  open  carriage -window,  low  cries  of 
anger  and  distress.  He  signaled  his  driver  to  stop, 
and  at  once  sprang  out  and  ran  to  the  spot.  A  burly 
man  was  choking  and  beating  a  small  hunchback, 
who  fought  with  tooth  and  nail  like  a  tiger  cat. 
Fairfax  called  to  the  big  fellow  to  let  go  his  hold  of 
the  dwarf's  neck,  and  not  being  heeded,  dealt  him  a 
heavy  blow  on  the  ear  with  his  fist.  A  watchman 
appeared  at  this  moment  and  reached  the  spot  just 
as  the  ruffian  was  trying  to  rise  from  where  the 
cuff  had  landed  him.  Some  time  was  spent  by 
Fairfax  in  explaining  to  the  officer  his  connection 
with  the  matter. 

The  little  deformed  man  declared  that  his  power- 
ful assailant  was  trying  to  rob  him  of  a  small  amount 
of  silver  money,  but  the  accused  stoutly  maintained 
that  the  money  was  his  and  that  the  other  had 
stolen  it  from  him. 

The  light  of  a  distant  lamp  set  at  the  gate  of  a 
private  house  permitted  Fairfax  to  see  the  dwarf's 
features  but  dimly,  yet  they  were  so  unusual,  so 
hideous  indeed,  that  they  fixed  themselves  firmly  in 


94:  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

his  memory.  The  watchman  knew  both  of  the  com- 
batants and,  laying  his  hand  on  the  little  fellow's 
strangely  distorted  shoulder,  called  him  Crapaud 
Crapousin. 

"  Crapaud  Crapousin,"  he  growled,  as  he  shook 
him  rudely,  "  you  are  always  into  mischief  !  How 
many  times  must  I  chuck  you  in  jail  ?" 

Of  course  Fairfax  got  away  from  this  scene  as 
soon  as  he  could.  The  delay,  however,  was  longer 
than  this  brief  telling  may  make  it  appear. 

When  he  reached  Chateau  d'Or  his  right  hand, 
with  which  he  had  delivered  the  blow  on  the  man's 
ear,  was  paining  him  greatly,  and  later  he  discov- 
ered that  he  had  broken  a  finger  on  the  fellow's 
skull. 

"  But  you  must  have  it  attended  to  at  once,"  said 
Mr.  Vernon  ;  "  fortunately  there  is  a  skillful  sur- 
geon present,"  and  forthwith  he  hurried  Fairfax 
into  a  room  apart  from  the  company,  and  sent  a 
servant  to  bring  Colonel  Loring. 

"  It's  nothing,"  Fairfax  insisted,  as  a  matter  of 
form  ;  but  his  pain  was  by  no  means  hidden,  and 
his  hand  was  beginning  to  swell. 

"  A  gentleman  should  never  strike  with  his  un- 
armed hand,"  said  Mr.  Vernon.  "  Why  didn't  you 
shoot  the  scoundrel  ?" 

"  I  shot  him  with  the  only  weapon  I  chanced  to 
have,"  replied  Fairfax,  with  a  grim  half-smile. 

The  music  was  swelling  merrily  and  rippling 
through  the  house  ;  the  dancers  were  flashing  back 
and  forth  and  in  and  out ;  and  the  breeze  coming  in 


CHATEAU  D'OR  AND  COLONEL  LOSING.      95 

at  the  open  windows  and  doors  gently  fanned  the 
flushed  young  faces  as  they  whirled. 

When  Colonel  Loring  approached  and  Mr.  Ver- 
non  was  about  to  speak,  Fairfax  looked  up  and  saw 
before  him  Pierre  Rameau.  He  could  not  help 
showing  his  surprise  and  astonishment. 

"  Let  me  present  my  friend,  Colonel  Philip  Lor- 
ing, Mr  Fairfax.  Colonel  Loring  is  an  expert  sur- 
geon ;  he  will  deal  cunningly  with  your  hurt  hand." 

Fairfax  was  staring,  glaring,  his  lips  compressed, 
his  chin  thrust  out,  his  face  white  and  rigid.  He 
did  not  hear  a  word  that  Mr.  Vernon  said. 

"  Don't  offer  me  your  hand,  Pierre  Rameau,  you 
base  and  conscienceless  villain  !"  he  exclaimed  in  a 
low,  measured  tone  of  voice,  husky  with  rage.  He 
appeared  about  to  spring  upon  Loring  and  throttle 
him. 

Colonel  Loring  without  changing  countenance 
turned  to  Mr.  Vernon  and,  with  a  simple  inflection 
of  inquiry,  said : 

"  What  does  this  man  mean  ?" 

The  wrath  and  the  insulting  epithets  seemed  not 
to  have  affected  him  in  any  way.  Not  a  line  of  his 
face  had  changed  its  expression.  He  turned  his 
eyes  slowly  and  with  a  peculiar  steadiness  from 
Fairfax  to  his  host  and  stood  in  an  erect  but 
supremely  indifferent  attitude. 

The  indignation  of  Fairfax  was  irrepressible  ;  he 
could  not  be  still.  Doubtless  he  would  have  made 
a  memorable  scene  of  it  if  he  had  been  left  free  to 
act. 

Mr.   Vernon  stepped  between  the   two  men  and 


9t>  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

made  a  gesture  that  meant  a  command  for  them  to 
be  silent,  and  when  he  spoke  it  was  scarcely  above 
his  breath. 

"  This  is  my  house,  Mr.  Fairfax  ;  you  are  both 
my  friends  and  my  guests  ;  if  you  are  enemies  to 
each  other,  let  me  beg  you  not  to  make  a  scene 
here." 

"  I  never  had  the  honor  of  seeing  the  gentleman 
%efore,"  said  Loring,  in  a  tone  that  gave  no  sug- 
gestion of  feeling,  unless  it  might  have  been  that  a 
hint  of  contempt  rang  in  it. 

"  You  are  the  robber,  Pierre  Rameau,"  Fairfax 
boldly  declared.  "  You  cannot  put  me  aside  with 
your  cool  effrontery.  I  have  seen  your  face  once 
before  ;  I  would  know  it  twenty  years  hence  at  a 
glance.  You  are  the  very  man  who  robbed 
Vasseur. 

"  How  can  you  call  this  scoundrel  your  friend, 
Mr.  Vernon  ?"  he  added,  after  a  moment's  intense 
gaze  into  Loring's  face.  "  He's  the  very  man — " 

"  But,  my  dear  Mr.  Fairfax,  you  are  mistaken. 
Colonel  Loring  is  not  Pierre  Rameau  or  any  other 
robber.  He  is  my  friend,  just  returned  from 
Mexico.  I  understand  your  feelings  now,"  Mr. 
Vernon  went  on,  rapidly  and  earnestly,  "  but  I 
assure  you  that  you  are  suffering  an  honest  mistake 
and  your  excitement  to  lead  you  too  far." 

"  But,  Mr.  Vernon,  I  cannot  be  mistaken  in 
this  matter.  You  are  mistaken,  sir,  yourself.  That 
face — that  scar — that  man,  from  head  to  foot — that 
villain,  when  his  mask  slipped  aside — " 

The  melodramatic  almost  hysterical  excitement 


CHATEAU   D'OE   AND   COLONEL   LOKING.  97 

of  Fairfax  contrasted  curiously  with  the  perfectly 
cool  and  even  deprecatory  manner  of  Mr.  Vernon 
and  of  Colonel  Loring  ;  and  yet  Fairfax  was  very 
steady — rigid,  indeed — and  his  look  was  dangerous. 
The  apparition  of  Pierre  Rameau  could  not  be 
counterfeit,  and  for  the  moment  he  felt  that  Mr. 
Vernon  could  not  help  being  aware  of  it,  so  distinct 
and  complete  was  the  identification  to  himself.  He 
felt  so  intensely,  under  the  sudden  strain  of  recog- 
nition, that  his  bearing  was  awkward  and  stagy  in 
comparison  with  the  grace  and  ease  of  the  waving 
figures  seen  through  the  flower-draped  doorway 
giving  into  the  parlors  where  the  dancers  were  in 
full  career. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Fairfax  saw  Pauline 
pass  across  the  field  of  his  vision.  She  was  danc- 
ing with  Lieutenant  Ballanche,  and  her  face  was 
illuminated  with  pleasure. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

SOME    SYLVAN   SURPRISES. 

Vasseur  gathered  together  his  slaves  and  his 
other  personal  property  and  with  them  loaded  two 
luggers  and  a  small  schooner.  Mr.  Vernon  had 
warned  him  that  it  was  no  longer  safe  to  remain  on 
the  exposed  coast  of  Bay  Saint  Louis.  To  be  sure, 
the  warning  was  scarcely  needed  after  the  raid  of 
the  cavaliers  ;  but  Mr.  Vernon  did  not  refer  to  thin 
danger ;  it  was  the  British  fleet  that  was  expected 
to  appear  in  the  gulf  waters. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  fleet  did  not  come  imme- 
diately ;  but  the  British  were  sending  emissaries  to 
the  Indians  all  through  Alabama  and  Mississippi, 
inciting  them  to  war  against  the  whites.  General 
Jackson  had  defeated  the  savages,  after  bloody 
fighting,  on  the  27th  of  March,  at  Tohopeka,  and 
was  taking  steps  to  organize  an  army  with  which  to 
gain  possession  of  the  Spanish  forts  along  the  gulf 
coast. 

Everywhere  among  the  white  settlements  the 
rumor  had  gone  forth  that  great  military  events 
were  impending ;  that  most  probably  an  English 

[98] 


SOME    SYLVAN   SURPRISES.  99 

force  absolutely  overwhelming  was  about  to  be 
thrown  into  the  country,  to  ravage  it  far  and  wide. 

The  frontier  people  were  mostly  poor,  uneducated 
and  possessed  of  but  limited  knowledge  of  the  cur- 
rent affairs  of  the  world,  and  it  was  no  more  than 
natural  that  they  should  receive  an  exaggerated 
impression  of  the  threatened  danger. 

They  were  as  brave  as  lions,  however,  and  their 
patriotism  knew  no  limit.  Indian  haters  from  their 
cradles  up,  it  needed  no  more  perfect  goad  than  the 
British  coalition  with  the  savages  to  make  every 
man,  woman  and  child  in  the  Southern  settlements 
an  implacable  foe  of  everything  English.  Even  the 
outlaws  of  Barataria  and  of  Pearl  River,  when  at 
last  the  test  came,  took  the  side  of  the  United  States 
in  the  struggle,  although  justice  had  set  a  price 
upon  their  heads. 

Vasseur  betook  himself,  with  all  his  movable 
belongings,  to  a  plantation  southwest  of  New- 
Orleans,  in  the  La  Fourche  country.  He  thought 
that  his  slaves  would  be  safe  in  this  wild,  out-of-the- 
way  place,  and  here,  in  the  care  of  an  overseer,  he 
left  them,  while  he,  dreaming  of  nothing  but  the 
recovery  of  his  jewels  and  revenge  on  Pierre  Ram- 
eau,  went  back  to  dog  the  tracks  of  that  intrepid 
and  successful  robber  and  pirate. 

Mounted  on  a  strong,  spirited  pony,  he  made  his 
way  into  the  Pearl  River  country  and  found  little 
trouble  in  associating  himself,  under  an  assumed 
name,  with  some  of  the  free-and-easy  inhabitants, 
who  were  more  at  ease  on  account  of  crushing 
defeat  that  had  befallen  their  enemies,  the  Indians. 


100  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

Like  most  of  that  class  of  men  who  had  sought 
the  remote  gulf -coast  region  to  hide  from  justice, 
Vasseur  did  not  have  the  least  respect  for  the  legal 
methods  of  righting  wrongs  or  of  bringing  to  pun- 
ishment those  who  did  him  injury.  His  nature  was 
revengeful,  and  the  only  law  he  dreamed  of  appealing 
to  was  that  of  which  he  could  appoint  himself  sole 
executive. 

Small  as  he  was,  his  strength  was  great,  and  no 
wolf  was  more  savage  or  untiring.  Cunning  and 
full  of  expedients,  sly  as  a  fox  and  quick  as  a  cat,  he 
passed  from  place  to  place,  attracting  little  notice, 
but  always  managing  to  collect,  little  by  little,  infor- 
mation concerning  the  whereabouts  and  the  doings 
of  the  cavaliers  of  Honey  Island. 

The  main  purpose  of  our  history  will  not  permit 
us  at  present  to  follow  Vasseur  in  his  pursuit  of 
Rameau,  but  the  reader  will  understand  the  state 
of  society  prevailing  in  the  gulf  coast  at  the  time  of 
which  we  write  if  we  sketch  here  a  scene  or  two  in 
the  by -play  we  are  now  in  view  of — a  by-play  fairly 
characteristic  of  the  time  and  the  place,  and  at  the 
same  time  important  as  a  foundation  for  some  later 
developments  of  our  drama. 

Among  the  acquaintances  made  by  Vasseur  in  the 
Pearl  River  region  was  the  preacher  Burns.  These 
two  men,  after  a  casual  meeting,  held  together  as  if 
by  the  force  of  some  hidden,  sympathetic  attraction. 
The  fact  was  that  Vasseur's  instinct  discovered  in 
Burns  a  trustworthy  spirit  as  well  as  a  valuable  store 
of  information  touching  the  country,  its  topography 
and  its  inhabitants.  Moreover,  the  little  French- 


SOME    SYLVAN   8UBPJRISES.  101 

man  quickly  made  out  that  the  preacher  was  not  all 
preacher — that  the  old  man  had  some  important 
object  in  view  other  than  the  comforting  and  saving 
of  the  souls  of  men. 

Burns  read  more  of  Vasseur's  true  character  than 
the  latter  suspected,  but  he  did  not  reach  his  secret. 
Each  man,  indeed,  kept  his  innermost  purpose  well 
shrouded. 

They  often  rode  together,  Vasseur,  on  his  stanch, 
muscular  pony,  and  Burns  astride  of  a  large,  bony 
animal,  presented  to  him  by  a  group  of  his  rough 
but  generous  frontier  admirers,  who  had  agreed 
that  his  preaching  was  "  wo'th  a  hoss,  saddle  an' 
bridle  ;"  and  in  these  somewhat  eccentric  journeys 
they  met  many  strangers  whose  movements  and 
purposes  were  more  or  less  mysterious,  and  many 
others  whose  open  faces  and  frank  speech  pro- 
claimed them  honest  men. 

Vasseur  quickly  noticed  that  Burns  made  his  way 
by  the  point  of  his  piety  and  with  the  wedge  of 
religious  sentiment.  The  hint  was  not  lost  on  the 
ready  Frenchman.  He,  too,  was,  apparently  very 
religious,  very  devoted  to  prayer  and  pious  reflec- 
tion. He  even  let  it  be  understood  that  preaching 
was  a  part  of  his  life-work.  If  Burns  saw  through  this 
shrewd  use  of  an  impious  sham,  he  did  not  appear 
to  notice  it. 

In  the  rude  but  comfortable  cabins  of  the  settlers 
the  itinerants  were  given  welcome  to  shelter  and 
food  in  return  for  their  songs  and  prayers.  Often 
enough  the  family  would  join  in  the  hymn-singing  ; 
always  the  members  would  kneel  during  prayers. 


102  THE   KING    OF    HONEY    ISLAND. 

It  was  a  persistent,  universal  element  of  the  Ameri- 
can pioneer  life,  this  reverence  for  the  simplest 
forms  of  Christian  worship.  Even  among  the  most 
lawless  and  desperate  classes  the  influence  of  relig- 
ious sentiment  went  a  long  way,  and  the  minister  of 
the  gospel  was  treated  as  a  sort  of  privileged  char- 
acter, to  go  and  come  at  will  and  to  be  protected 
and  cared  for  by  everybody.  He  was  a  variable  yet 
potent  factor,  an  elusive  but  inestimable  quantity, 
in  the  growth  of  the  strange  civilization  of  the 
backwoods.  Like  John  of  old,  he  was  a  strong, 
rough,  picturesque  orator  of  the  wilderness,  bidding 
men  repent  and  prepare  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

One  fine  morning  in  April,  as  Vasseur  and  Burns 
rode  along  a  bridle-path,  a  little  way  from  the  east 
bank  of  Pearl  River,  going  in  a  direction  that 
would  intersect  the  Black-wolf  Trail  a  mile  or  two 
farther  on,  they  fell  in  with  a  short,  well-built, 
black-eyed  young  man,  who  informed  them  that 
he  was  a  Methodist  preacher  on  his  way  to  New 
Orleans. 

This  comely  youth  was  indeed  a  typical  fledgling 
minister  in  appearance  and  was  rather  showily 
dressed  in  clerical  garb. 

He  was  a  pleasing  conversationalist,  soft-voiced, 
versatile  in  expression,  of  ready  humor  and  appar- 
ently well  acquainted  with  the  country.  His  age 
could  not  have  been  much  beyond  twenty-one  years, 
though  something  lurking  in  the  lines  of  his  mobile 
features  suggested  deep  and  perhaps  impressive 
experiences. 

The  horse  that  he  was  riding  was  poor,  apparently 


SOME    SYLVAN    SURPRISES.  103 

old  and  certainly  quite  lame  ;  but  his  saddle  was  a 
costly  one,  silver-mounted  and  beautifully  finished  ; 
his  bridle  was  likewise  very  fine.  A  pair  of  heavy, 
silver-mounted  holster  pistols  hung  at  his  saddle- 
bow. 

"  They  were  given  to  me  along  with  the  saddle," 
he  explained,  "  and  though  I  have  not  the  slightest 
use  for  them,  I  could  not  well  refuse  them." 

"  I  suppose,"  he  added  interrogatively,  after  a 
moment's  reflection,  "  there  would  be  no  harm  in 
selling  the  weapons  and  using  the  money  when  I 
arrive  in  New  Orleans  ?" 

Mr.  Burns  and  Vasseur  both  said  that  they  could 
see  no  impropriety. 

The  three  then  discussed  the  peculiar  hardships, 
vexations  and  ludicrous  adventures  in  the  ministe- 
rial life  of  the  frontier. 

They  rode  slowly  along,  on  account  of  the  lame- 
ness of  the  young  stranger's  horse,  their  way  leading 
them  through  a  wild,  semi-tropical  forest  The 
dense  foliage  of  the  trees  met  over  their  heads  and 
shut  out  the  sky,  while  on  either  hand  the  giant 
trunks  stood  so  thick  that  the  eye  could  penetrate 
but  the  shortest  distance  from  the  irregular  road- 
way, save  where  here  and  there  little  glades  opened 
and  let  the  sunshine  in  on  crowded  and  bristling 
clumps  of  dwarf  palmetto  ;  and  but  for  the  sough- 
ing of  a  brisk  breeze  through  the  frondous  boughs 
on  high,  the  silence  would  have  been  unbroken  by 
any  sound  of  the  wilderness. 

"  I  presume  that  one  or  the  other  of  you,  breth- 
ren, will  be  glad  to  swap  horses  with  me,"  said  the 


104  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

stranger,  with  a  humorous  twinkle  in  his  sharp, 
black  eyes  ;  "  mine  is,  as  you  see,  a  most  desirable 
beast,  especially  as  to  his  gait." 

"  I  am  sure  that  if  you  consider  him  desirable  you 
had  better  keep  him,"  remarked  Mr.  Burns,  his  own 
grave  and  wrinkled  face  relaxing  a  little  ;  "  I  should 
not  wish  to  relieve  you  of  him." 

"  Me,  I  no  wish  ze  good  'orse  at  all ;  dis  one  suit 
me  var'  well,"  said  Vasseur. 

The  young  preacher  chuckled  and  turned  a  quar- 
ter about  in  his  saddle,  so  that  his  weight  was  all  on 
his  left  stirrup. 

Suddenly  he  let  fall  the  bridle-reins  and,  with 
lightning  celerity,  snatched  both  the  pistols  from 
the  saddle-bow. 

Burns  and  Vasseur  found  themselves  looking  each 
into  the  yawning  muzzle  of  a  weapon  held  by  a 
hand  as  steady  as  a  stone  wall. 

"  Dismount — both  on  the  same  side  there,  gentle- 
men," came  the  cold,  determined  order,  "  and  hold 
up  your  hands,  or  111  bore  you,  center  through, 
before  you  can  wink  !" 

Then  and  there  the  young  preacher  robbed  Vas- 
seur of  his  money,  a  dagger  and  his  horse  ;  and,  after 
placing  the  fine  bridle  and  saddle  upon  the  latter, 
mounted,  and,  with,  a  mocking  laugh,  a  rakish  bow 
and  a  kiss  of  tht  fingers,  rode  away.  He  had  touched 
nothing  belonging  to  Mr.  Burns. 

It  is  not  known  whether  or  not  Mr.  Burns  was 
taken  by  surprise  when  Vasseur,  as  did  the  disciple 
of  old,  began  to  rage  and  swear  and  curse  like  a 
buccaneer,  his  expletives  ranging  through  the  scale 


SOME   SYLVAN   SURPRISES.  105 

of  three  or  four  languages  ;  but  that  he  stood  quietly 
by,  his  face  inscrutably  mournful  in  its  expres- 
sion, his  thin,  bony  hands  hanging  at  his  sides,  is  well 
authenticated. 

Vasseur  exhausted  himself  of  profanity,  and  then 
was  fain  to  put  his  own  saddle  and  bridle  on  the 
stranger's  lame  horse  in  order  to  proceed  on  the 
journey. 

Burns  objected  to  this. 

"  Take  my  beast,"  he  said,  "  it  will  serve  your  pur- 
pose better,  brother.  The  lame  one  will  be  good 
enough  for  me." 

Vasseur  looked  abashed,  for  the  thought  had 
flashed  into  his  mind  that  very  second  to  do  for 
Burns  what  the  other  preacher  had  done  for  him. 

"You  need  this  strong  beast  of  mine,"  Burns 
urged,  "  to  carry  out  your  plans.  Do  not  hesitate  ; 
he  is  yours,  take  him  and  welcome.  I  can  get  on 
with  the  other." 

The  little  Frenchman  was  inwardly  startled. 
What  did  Burns  know  of  his  plans  ?  Had  he  sud- 
denly divined  them  ? 

"  You  have  undertaken  a  difficult,  an  almost  im- 
possible thing,  brother,  and  you  cannot  afford  to  be 
poorly  mounted  in  case  of  need,"  went  on  the  old 
man.  "  This  is  a  good,  strong  horse,  and,  although 
he  does  not  look  so,  is  a  very  swift  one.  Take  him  ; 
I  give  him  to  you." 

It  was  while  they  were  parleying  on  this  subject, 
Vasseur  pretending  that  he  was  objecting  to  Burns's 
generosity,  that  the  old  man  stooped  and  picked  up 
a  folded  letter,  the  seal  of  which  had  been  broken. 


106  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

He  opened  it  without  hesitation,  and  found  it  to  be 
a  short  note  addressed  to  John  A.  Murrell — a  name 
which,  a  few  years  later,  was  that  of  the  most  des- 
perate and  enterprising  outlaw  ever  known  in 
America. 

It  would  have  been  better  for  Vasseur  had  he 
accepted  the  proffered  horse  at  once  ;  then  he  might 
have  escaped  the  unpleasant  experience  which  soon 
followed. 

Like  many  another  pretender  he  lingered  too 
long  to  accentuate  and  collaterally  reinforce  his 
assumed  sincerity. 

It  may  have  been  the  steady,  searching  gaze  that 
Burns  bent  upon  him,  it  may  have  been  the  old 
man's  singular  expression  of  kindliness,  or  it  may 
have  been  the  peculiar  turn  of  the  adventure  just 
passed  through  ;  at  all  events,  influenced  by  some 
power,  Vasseur  stood  hesitating  and  demurring  until 
three  galloping  horsemen  armed  to  the  teeth  were 
close  upon  them. 

Burns  saw  the  new-comers  first  and  with  a  spasm- 
like  movement  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  leader, 
his  face  shriveling  and  blanching  in  a  startling 
manner. 

Vasseur  turned  quickly  as  the  sound  of  horses' 
feet  behind  him  shook  him  out  of  his  insincerity, 
and  it  was  now  his  turn  to  show  amazement,  sur- 
prise and  despair  all  condensed  in  a  single  stare. 

The  riders  reined  in  their  horses  and  halted  a  rod 
distant,  forming  a  finely  picturesque  group  set 
against  the  dull,  gray  trunks  and  dusky  interspaces 
of  the  wood. 


SOME    SYLVAN   SURPRISES.  107 

Pierre  Rameau  was  in  front,  mounted  on  a  cold, 
proud  horse,  whose  nostrils  breathed  the  air  of  the 
wilderness  with  savage  delight. 

Vasseur,  with  the  air  of  a  wild  beast  caught  in  a 
close  place,  looked  this  way  and  that  and  was  on  the 
point  of  running  off  among  the  trees  as  fast  as  his 
legs  could  carry  him,  when  Rameau  leveled  a  pistol 
on  him  and  bade  him  stand. 

"  What  are  you,  gentlemen,  doing  here  ?"  inquired 
the  cavalier  ;  but  neither  Burns  nor  Vasseur  could 
answer  promptly,  so  dry  were  their  throats  and  so 
stiffened  their  tongues.  Not  that  either  wanted 
courage.  But  the  situation  under  the  circumstances 
was  absolutely  overpowering. 

"  Are  you  deaf,  you  little  half-nigger  ?"  continued 
Rameau,  as  he  recognized  Vasseur.  "  Speak  in- 
stantly or  I'll — " 

Evidently  Rameau  was  astonished,  although  his 
face  retained  its  calm,  cold,  almost  indifferent  ex- 
pression. He  had  not  expected  ever  to  meet  Vas- 
seur again  ;  taking  it  for  a  certainty  that  the  little 
fellow  had  been  burned  to  ashes  in  the  fire  of  his 
own  house.  Here  he  was,  however,  evidently  intent 
on  revenge,  Rameau  felt  sure,  and  a  most  danger- 
ous man  he  was  to  be  hunted  by. 

"  I  was  hunting  my  lost  cattle,"  quickly  responded 
the  little  Frenchman  in  his  own  tongue  ;  "  a  man 
robbed  us  just  now." 

"  Don't  lie  to  me,  half-breed  ;  I  know  what  you 
are  up  to  ;  I  can  read  you  as  if  your  face  were  a 
book.  You  are  up  here  dogging  my  tracks — I  have 
heard  of  you  prowling  around  for  some  time." 


108  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

Rameau's  look  and  voice  were  cold,  hard,  cruel 
and  Vasseur  well  knew  that  it  was  not  worth  while 
to  make  any  further  attempt  to  deceive  him. 

Burns  stood  beside  his  horse  in  an  attitude  which 
betrayed  his  intense  excitement  as  much  as  did  the 
extreme  gray  pallor  and  the  almost  distorted  con- 
traction of  his  face  ;  but  Rameau  was  too  much 
occupied  with  Vasseur  to  give  the  old  man  more 
than  a  passing  glance. 

"  Tie  that  fellow  to  a  tree,  Newkirk,"  said  the 
leader  of  the  cavaliers  to  one  of  his  followers.  "  Tie 
him  up  and  give  him  forty  with  a  good  gad." 

The  man  at  once  obeyed  the  order. 

Vasseur  began  to  whine  and  beg  ;  he  saw  that 
resistance  would  be  madness  ;  but  the  thought  of  a 
whipping  was  torture  itself.  When  a  boy  and — 
shall  it  be  said  here  ? — a  slave,  he  had  known,  on  a 
plantation  in  San  Domingo,  what  the  lash  felt  like, 
falling  on  the  bare  back.  The  recollection  coming 
to  him  suddenly  drew  up  his  limbs  as  if  with 
rheumatic  agony. 

He  pleaded  in  the  name  of  all  the  saints  he  could 
think  of  and  prayed  in  polyglot  profusion. 

Newkirk,  aided  by  one  of  his  fellows,  seized  him 
and,  despite  his  struggles,  placed  him  in  a  hugging 
attitude  against  a  tree,  where  they  bound  him 
securely. 

"  Now  cut  some  switches  and  give  him  a  sound 
basting,"  said  Rameau.  "  After  he  has  been  thor- 
oughly tickled,  maybe  he  won't  be  so  anxious  to 
'aunt  lost  cattle  in  these  woods  !" 


SOME    SYLVAN   SURPRISES.  109 

Then,  while  the  men  were  selecting  their  gads,  he 
turned  to  Burns. 

"  And  are  you  a  cattle-hunter,  too  ?"  he  inquired 
with  sarcastic  intonation.  "  What  have  you  got  to 
say  for  yourself  ?" 

The  old  man  made  a  great  effort,  but  his  lips 
moved  without  giving  forth  a  sound.  Three  times 
he  tried  to  speak,  his  parched  tongue  crisping  in  his 
mouth  like  a  frost-dried  leaf. 

"  Some  cat  has  got  your  tongue,  too,  eh  !  Perhaps 
you  would  like  a  few  lashes  before  speaking  to  a 
gentleman.  Is  that  it  ?" 

Rameau  said  these  words  while  looking  hard  into 
the  old  man's  writhing  face.  As  he  did  so,  he  felt 
a  vague  uneasiness,  as  of  something  forgotten  or  of 
something  strange  about  to  happen,  and  he  almost 
shrank  from  the  flaring  yet  aged-dulled  eyes  that 
gazed  so  fixedly  at  him. 

When,  at  last,  Burns  found  his  voice,  he  leaned 
forward,  and  in  a  hoarse,  rasping  half- whisper,  that 
hissed  strangely  through  the  woods,  exclaimed  : 

"  At  last,  Kirk  MacCollough,  I  have  found  you  !" 


CHAPTER  X. 

BURNS   AND    MAC  COLLOUGH. 

When  the  man  Newkirk  began  to  lay  on  blows 
with  a  long  switch  across  Vasseur's  back,  the  little 
fellow  begged  and  screamed  and  swore  indiscrimin- 
ately ;  but  all  to  no  effect.  The  time  had  come  for 
him  to  receive  a  sound  basting,  as  Rameau  had 
ordered,  and  it  was  delivered  with  right  good  will, 
the  full  forty  lashes  ringing  out  keen  and  loud. 

"Who  are  you ?"  demanded  Rameau,  half  recoil- 
ing from  the  name  that  Burns  had  spoken,  though 
his  face  showed  no  signs  of  surprise.  "  What  do 
you  mean  by  your  crazy  words  ?" 

At  the  same  time  he  rode  close«up  beside  the  old 
man  and.  leaning  forward,  looked  searchingly  into 
his  face. 

"  Kirk  MacCollough,  where — where  is  my  child  ?" 
came  from  the  dry,  withered  lips. 

"  Ah,  I  see  you  are  crazy,  poor  old  man  !"  mut- 
tered the  outlaw  ;  but  he  did  not  deceive  Burns, 
who  knew  that  he  was  recognized. 

"  I  might  well  be  crazy,  Kirk  MacCollough,  with 
all  that  I  have  borne  from  you  ;  but  I  am  not — I 
[iioj 


BURNS   AND   MAC   COLLOUQH.  Ill 

am  not."  He  lifted  his  hands,  shaking  as  if  with  a 
palsy.  "  Kirk  MacCollough,  take  me  to  my  child  !" 
he  quavered.  "  Take  me  ta  her  !  Let  me  see  her 
once  more  and  die  !" 

There  was  no  intimation  of  recognition  in 
Rameau's  eyes.  He  straightened  up  in  his  saddle 
and  made  an  impatient  gesture. 

l<  Hold  your  tongue,"  he  said,  speaking  in  an 
undertone  ;  "  I  will  listen  to  you  presently." 

Meantime,  the  scourging  of  Vasseur  had  been 
proceeding,  evidently  much  to  the  amusement  of 
the  onlooking  cavaliers,  and  now  the  dust  was  ris- 
ing from  the  little  victim's  jacket  in  thin  smoke-like 
puffs  at  every  blow.  Newkirk  was  a  strong  man  ; 
he  made  the  gad  chirrup  on  its  way  through  the  air  ; 
the  jacket  and  undergarments  were  but  slender  pro- 
tection against  his  vigorous  strokes. 

Rameau  turned  and  coolly  looked  on  until  the 
punishment  was  ended. 

"  Untie  the  cow-hunter  now  and  let  him  go  !"  he 
ordered. 

Vasseur,  trembling  and  apparently  almost  ex- 
hausted, when  the  halter-straps  were  removed,  stood 
there  looking  about  him  like  a  worried  and  sorely 
wounded  wild  animal  ;  his  eyes  shot  out  a  strange 
gaze  of  mingled  fear  and  fury  ;  his  teeth  chattered. 

"  Go,  now,  you  half-nigger  thief,"  said  Rameau  ; 
"  and  if  ever  again  I  find  you  prowling  in  this  part 
of  the  country,  I'll  have  you  hanged  to  the  first  limb 
that's  strong  enough  to  bear  you  !  Go  !' 

Like  a  race-horse  promptly  starting  at  the  word, 
Vasseur  bolted  away,  running  nimbly,  but  with  a 


112  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

certain  feeble  swaying  of  his  body,  and  was  quickly 
lost  sight  of  in  the  gloomy  thickets  of  undergrowth 
near  by. 

A  grim  half-smile  showed  itself  in  Rameau's 
face  ;  it  appeared  to  make  the  slender  white  scar 
across  his  cheek  and  ear  flicker  balefully. 

"  Ride  on,"  he  said  to  his  men  ;  "  take  the  saddle 
and  bridle.  Leave  the  horse  ;  it  is  not  worth  being 
troubled  with.  I'll  join  you  at  Dick's." 

The  orders  were  promptly  obeyed,  and,  a  few 
moments  later,  Burns  and  Rameau  were  left 
together  in  the  silence  and  the  gloom  of  the 
moss-hung  woods. 

Half  gay,  half  melancholy  was  the  snatch  of  song 
borne  back  to  their  ears — a  bit  of  sentimental 
rhyme  that  one  of  the  outlaws,  in  a  fine  tenor  voice, 
trolled  as  he  rode  • 

" '  Her  lover  was  false  and  cold  was  his  heart, 

And  she  died  by  his  cruel  hand  ; 
And  the  lover  off  to  the  wars  did  go, 

To  fight  in  a  foreign  land.'  " 

Burns  was  still  standing  beside  his  horse,  and, 
half  leaning  on  the  saddle,  kept  his  deep-set  eyes 
fixed  so  that  they  seemed  to  burn  right  into  those 
of  Pierre  Rameau. 

When  the  men  were  quite  out  of  sight  and  hear- 
ing Rameau  said  : 

"  Old  man,  what  do  you  want  ?* 

"You  know  what  I  want,  Kirk  MacCollough. 
Where  is  my  child — where  is  Margaret  ?' 


BUENS   AND   MAC    COLLOUGH.  113 

"  What  do  I  know  about  your  child  ?  Who  are 
you,  to  put  such  a  question  to  me  ?" 

"  You  have  not  forgotten  me.  It  is  useless  for 
you  to  dissimulate.  I  am  here  Kirk  MacCollough, 
humbly  begging  to  see  Margaret  once  more  before 
I  am  dead.  You  are  a  bad  man,  but  you  cannot 
refuse  me  this." 

"You  are  evidently  laboring  under  some  strange 
mistake,  sir.  My  name  is  not  MacCollough.  I 
don't  know  anything  about  your  child." 

"  Don't  lie  to  me,  Kirk  MacCollough  !  It  can  do 
you  no  g'ood — serve  you  no  turn  whatever.  I  know 
you.  You  know  me.  I  have  followed  you  step  by 
step,  from  place  to  place,  from  country  to  country. 
You  could  not  and  cannot  escape  me.  Where  is 
Margaret '" 

This  was  said  in  a  louder  voice  and  with  an  into- 
nation that  in  some  way  suggested  the  implacable 
spirit  of  righteous  fate.  It  did  not,  however,  pro- 
duce the  slightest  visible  effect  on  Rameau.  His 
face  was  absolutely  indifferent  in  its  expression. 
He  regarded  the  tall,  emaciated  old  man  before 
him  as  a  satisfied  beast  of  prey  might  have  eyed 
with  soulless  and  careless  eyes  an  undesirable 
victim. 

"  If  you,  like  the  little  black  scoundrel  whom  you 
have  seen  me  punish  in  a  light  way,  are  a?sc  clog- 
ging my  steps — "  He  broke  off,  hesitated  and 
seemed  to  be  reflecting  with  liis  eyes  cast  down. 
Presently,  he  said  :  "  You  must  oe  crazy,  stranger. 
An  old  man  like  you  ought  n  »t  to  be  risking  him- 
self in  this  wild  place." 


114  THE   KING   Vff  HONEY   ISLAND. 

Burns  lifted  one  hand,  as  if  in  prayer,  and  a 
strange,  hungry,  longing  expression  passed  his 
face.  For  some  moments  he  was  silent,  his  lips 
moving,  his  eyes  upturned. 

When  again  he  spoke,  he  seemed  to  have  better 
control  of  himself. 

"  Kirk,"  he  said,  very  gently,  "  you  well  know 
that  I  would  not  harm  a  hair  of  your  head  if  I  could, 
and,  moreover,  you  can  see  how  utterly  powerless 
I  am." 

'•  Don't  call  me  *  Kirk  '  or  any  other  of  your  fanci- 
ful names  !"  exclaimed  Rameau,  his  voice  for  the 
first  time  ringing  impatiently.  "  I  am  Pierre 
Rameau — you  may  have  heard  of  him — and  I  do 
not  deal  gently  with  those  who  set  themselves  like 
hounds  to  follow  on  my  track  !  Do  you  hear  ?" 

The  old  man  drew  in  a  deep,  long  breath,  and 
held  it  as  one  does  who  is  helpless  and  hopeless  at 
a  moment  when  some  mighty  desire  fills  the  whole 
of  life.  He  made  a  gesture  that  signified  both  pity 
and  utter  distress. 

'  I  will  address  you  with  any  name  you  like,"  he 
presently  said  ;  "  but  a  name  is  nothing.  You  can- 
not turn  me  back  or  put  me  off  by  this  pretense  of 
not  knowing  who  I  am.  I  am  Max  Burns  ;  I  have 
never  had  any  cause  to  be  ashamed  of  my  name  ;  I 
want  to  see  my  child,  my  Margaret,  your  wife. 
Where  is  she,  Kirk — where  is  she,  Pierre  Rameau  ?" 

"  Haven't  I  said  that  I  don't  know  you,  never 
knew  you,  never  saw  you  before,  don't  know  any- 
thing whatever  about  you  or  your  daughter  ?  Old 
man,  you  had  better  go  home  and  be  taken  care  of  ; 


BURNS   AND   MAO  COLLOUGH.  115 

this  is  no  place  for  you.  Come,  mount  your  horse 
and  be  off  with  you,  I've  no  further  time  to  waste 
here." 

The  irritating  manner  and  tone  with  which  the 
outlaw  spoke  these  sentences  were  edged  and 
pointed  with  the  look  he  assumed — a  stare  of 
absolute  disregard  for  the  situation  or  anything  it 
might  suggest.  He  seemed  mailed  in  the  flawless 
armor  of  indifference  ;  he  could  not  be  touched  at 
any  point.  The  cold,  soulless,  yet  in  some  way 
fascinating  gleam  of  his  long,  narrow  eyes  re-in- 
forced  the  chilling  and  irresistible  influence  of  his 
voice  to  a  pitch  that  was  torturing. 

Burns  realized  with  terrible  distinctness  that 
llow  and  forever  his  last  hope  was  being  ground  in 
the  dust  under  this  man's  heel.  There  was  no 
relief,  no  appeal,  no  glimmer  of  any  ray  even  of 
chance  ;  all  was  lost,  gone.  He  appeared  to  shrink 
and  collapse  under  the  pressure  of  the  revelation. 

Rameau  saw  this  effect  as  he  sat  gazing  some- 
what aslant  with  a  steady,  unchanging  expression 
Of  countenance. 

"Come,  come!"  he  repeated.  "Mount  your 
horse  and  be  off  !  And  let  me  advise  you  that  you 
will  fare  badly  if  you  are  ever  found  here  or  any- 
where near  here  again." 

Slowly  the  old  man  sank  upon  his  knees  and 
covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  His  horse  turned 
and  touched  him  with  its  nose.  The  silence  of  the 
great,  dark  wilderness  seemed  to  center  in  the  spot 
and  add  an  awful  solemnity  to  Burns's  voice  as  he 
began  to  pray. 


116  THE   KING    OF    HONEY    ISLAND. 

Uplifting  his  hands  and  turning  his  pallid  yet 
bronzed  face  toward  heaven,  he  wailed  aloud  : 

"  O  my  God,  hast  Thou  forsaken  me  ?  This,  O 
Heavenly  Master,  is  my  hour  of  extremity  !" 

Thus  far  he  proceeded  in  a  passionate  strain  ; 
then,  checking  himself,  he  closed  his  lips  and 
prayed  inwardly,  until  he  was  gruffly  interrupted 
by  Rameau,  who  exclaimed  : 

"  Here,  stop  that  tomfoolery  !  I  have  said  for 
you  to  mount  your  horse  and  move  off,  and  now  I 
mean  for  you  to  do  it  !  Get  up  from  there,  in- 
stantly !" 

Something  infinitely  brutal  and  relentless  in  the 
outlaw's  voice  closed  the  gate  of  prayer  with  a  slam 
so  to  speak,  and  caused  Burns  to  start  and  rise, 
almost  with  a  spring,  to  his  feet. 

Instantly  the  manner  of  both  men  changed. 

"  You  old  fool,"  said  Rameau,  "  do  you  hope  to 
deceive  me  ?  I  see  through  your  game  ;  but  I  am 
not  so  easily  taken  in.  Very  small  will  be  the  re- 
ward that  you  will  ever  get  for  capturing  me." 

"  '  Reward' — '  Reward,'  "  Burns  repeated,  "  I  sup- 
pose that  I  never  have  deserved  anything  better 
than  this." 

"  You  and  that  little  nigger  Vasseur  are  chums,  I 
imagine.  Great  detectives  and  sleuths  of  the  law, 
are  you  two  fellows  !  Set  out  to  capture  Pierre 
Rameau,  eh  ?  Ah,  your  little  plan  is  all  plain 
enough  to  me  now." 

He  had  drawn  one  of  his  heavy  holster  pistols 
and  now  cocked  it  with  a  slow  deliberate  motion,  his 


BURNS   AND   MAC  COLLOUGH.  117 

eyes  seeming1  to  lengthen  and  narrow  themselves 
like  those  of  a  cat. 

"  You  choose  to  play  a  part,  Kirk  MacCollough," 
the  old  man  said  ;  "  you  choose  to  deny  everything, 
to  spurn  your  own  name,  to  treat  me  as  a  stranger, 
to  refuse  me  the  one  last  hope  of  my  ruined  life  ; 
but  I  tell  you  now  that  you  shall  not  escape  me  !" 

His  e)res  were  burning  and  his  voice  was  deep 
and  strong,  with  a  decided  Scotch  accent.  His  long- 
white  hair  and  matted  beard  shook  with  the  vehe- 
ment force  of  his  speech.  He  had  straightened  him- 
self up  so  that  his  tall  frame  was  firmly  erect  and 
one  bony  hand  was  quivering  high  above  his  head. 

"  You  shall  not  escape  me,"  he  repeated,  with 
awful  emphasis,  "  even  though  you  riddle  my  body 
with  all  your  bullets  !  I  never  will  die — I  cannot 
die  until — " 

"  You  are  going  to  die  right  now,"  said  Rameau, 
interrupting  him.  "  Old  man,  I  leave  no  person 
alive  who  says  what  you  have  said.  You  have 
spoken  your  own  death-warrant.  I  am  your  execu- 
tioner." 

"  Kirk  MacCollough,  you  cannot  kill  me — you  can-, 
not.  Death  is  not  for  me  so  long  as  you  live  !  I  am 
in  God's  hands  ;  He  will  not  wholly  desert  me,  now 
that  He  has  at  last  led  me  to  you." 

"  Oh,  you  think  that,  do  you  ?  And  you  consider 
yourself  bullet-proof,  eh  ?  Well,  the  test  is  quite 
easy." 

He  raised  his  pistol  ;  but  instantly  lowered  it,  as 
a  devilish  light  leaped  into  his  strangely  handsome 
face. 


118  THE    KING   OF    HONEY    ISLAND. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  before  you  die  that  you  have  no 
child.  Margaret  is  dead.  You  are  her  murderer, 
not  I,  although  I  killed  her.  If  you  had  not  inter- 
fered with  our  love  I  should  have  been  a  happy  hus- 
band and  Margaret  my  happy  wife  in  old  Scotland 
to-day.  You  chose  to  treat  me  like  a  dog.  I  took  the 
girl  and  did  my  best  for  her.  She  proved  untrue  to 
me  in  Spain,  and  I  killed  her.  Now  I  am  going  to 
kill  you.  Nothing  can  save  you.  I'm  glad  that  you 
came  here  ;  it  makes  my  revenge  so  easy." 

Burns  stood  as  if  petrified  by  the  outlaw's  words. 
His  lifted  hand  fell  by  his  side,  his  features  took  on 
a  stony  expression. 

Pierre  Rameau  spoke  without  any  special  empha- 
sis ;  but  his  words  came  forth  from  his  lips  like 
bullets  from  a  gun.  The  desperation  of  a  sudden 
mood  induced  by  the  memories  arising  in  his  mind 
was  not  the  frenzy  of  an  ordinary  man.  Indeed,  he 
was  not  an  ordinary  man.  The  history  of  his  deeds 
makes  him  an  unparalleled  character.  With  him 
anger  was  no  more  than  mirth  ;  he  seemed  to  be 
passionless  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  word.  Any 
mood  was  to  him  a  mere  phase  of  conscienceless 
existence  at  the  core  of  which  burned  a  steady,  in- 
tense selfishness. 

"  You  wish  to  find  Margaret,  do  you  ?  You  shall 
find  her,  if  there's  anything  in  your  Presbyterian 
tomfoolery,  in  hell,  where  you  both  belong.  You 
forced  her  to  desperation  ;  you  made  an  outlaw  of 
me.  I  am  going  to  make  a  dead  man  of  you  !" 

By  some  such  reasoning  as  this  does  the  desper- 
ate criminal  almost  always  seek  to  justify  his 


BURNS   AND   MAC  COLLOUGH. 

attitude.  Rarely,  indeed,  do  we  find  a  man,  whose 
deeds  have  made  him  the  horror  of  mankind,  whose 
name  is  sufficient  to  send  a  shudder  through  the 
world,  whose  whole  record  is  black  with  outrages 
against  the  most  sacred  rights  of  others — rarely  do- 
we  find  such  a  man  putting  upon  himself  the  blame 
of  his  condition  and  attitude.  Somebody,  he  fancies, 
or  pretends  to  fancy,  has  driven  him  from  the  path 
of  honesty  and  honor.  Circumstances  have  con- 
spired against  him  ;  ill-luck  has  dogged  him. 
Never  once  will  he  look  truth  in  the  face  and  say  : 
"  I  am  a  villian  from  my  mother's  womb  ;  I  was 
born  an  Ishmaelite  .'" 

As  Burns  stood  there  facing  the  worker  of  all  his 
misery,  he  presented  the  other  side  of  the  inscrip- 
tion of  life.  His  had  been  a  career  of  right-doing. 
From  his  youth  to  old  age  he  had  thought  little  of 
himself  ;  his  chief  happiness  had  been  derived  from 
doing  good  to  others  and  from  performing  the 
duties  of  his  holy  calling.  Like  most  Scotch  Presbyte- 
rians, he  had  placed  his  faith  in  God  with  a  serious- 
ness and  a  literalness  that  brushed  aside  doubt  as 
the  dust  of  death.  From  long  habit  of  thought  and 
work  he  had  grown  into  the  form  of  his  religion, 
had  shaped  his  physical  and  moral  life  to  it,  had  set 
his  whole  intellect  in  its  groove  and  had  come  to 
regard  himself  as  the  unworthy  but  specially  chosen 
object  of  Divine  care.  Never  in  his  life,  till  this 
moment,  had  he  doubted  that  for  every  prayer  his 
God  would  offer  relief. 

Now,  as  in  this  supreme  moment,  his  thoughts 
ran  back  over  the  past,  lighting  up  the  strange 


120  THE   KINO   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

route  of  toil,  anxiety,  distress,  delay  and  defeat  by 
which  he  had  at  last  come  into  the  presence  of 
Kirk  MacCollough,  it  seemed  to  him  the  very  des- 
pair of  all  despairs  that  this  man  should  be  able  to 
sit  there,  proud,  vigorous,  painless, — a  superb  speci- 
men of  the  animal  man — and  from  his  silver- 
mounted  saddle,  as  from  a  king's  throne,  fling  the 
fiat  of  a  merciless  fate  into  his  face.  For  the  first 
time  since  his  youthful  days  a  sudden  whirl  of 
passion  possessed  him.  His  frame  distended  itself, 
his  eyes  shot  out  a  wild  light,  a  foam  sprang  to  his 
lips  and  flew  out  in  a  fine,  white  spray  as  he 
exclaimed  : 

"  Imp  of  Satan  !  Liar  of  Liars  !  Do  your  worst  ' 
If  my  God  has  indeed  forsaken  me,  my  manhood  has 
not !  I  am  not  afraid  to  die  !  Shoot,  you  poor,  pitiful 
lying  coward,  shoot !" 

He  tore  open  his  coat  and  bared  his  shaggy, 
emaciated  breast  as  he  spoke.  The  attitude,  the 
look,  the  whole  presence  of  the  man  flashed  out  a 
spirit  which,  on  the  stage,  is  melodrama,  but  which 
in  real  life  is  desperate  heroism.  He  was  expanded 
and  rigid  with  uncontrollable,  ecstatic  desperation. 
His  chin  was  thrust  far  out,  his  hands  were  clenched, 
his  arms  stood  akimbo.  But  for  the  awful  stress  and 
sincerity  of  his  mood  the  whole  thing  must  have 
been  ludicrous.  As  it  was,  however,  the  magic 
circle  of  the  heroic,  the  extraordinary,  the  pictur- 
esque was  drawn  around  it,  and  it  was  set  apart 
forever  as  one  of  the  focal  points  of  human  passion 
wherein  self- forgetf illness  and  courage  merge  into 
absolute  fearlessness, 


BURNS   AND   MAC  COLLOUGH.  121 

Pierre  Rameau  looked  on  without  any  change  of 
expression  ;  but  he  could  not  fail  to  recognize  and, 
in  his  own  way,  honor  the  old  man's  spirit.  The 
cool,  alert,  thoughtful  outlaw  felt,  however,  that 
this  very  courage  made  Burns  a  most  dangerous 
enemy  to  be  running  at  large.  What  might  not 
such  a  spirit,  goaded  to  desperation,  find  it  possible 
to  accomplish  ?  Self-preservation  demanded  the 
death  of  this  man,  and  with  Pierre  Rameau  there 
was  no  such  thing  as  hesitancy  or  faltering. 

He  raised  his  pistol,  took  deliberate  aim  and  sent 
an  ounce  leaden  ball  straight  for  the  heart  of  Max 
Burns. 

The  old  man  flung  up  his  arms  and  fell  without 
a  groan. 

When  the  loud  report  of  the  weapon  had  ceased 
to  clatter  its  echoes  in  the  hollows  of  the  wood, 
Rameau  gave  the  crumpled  body  of  his  poor  old 
victim  a  steady,  searching  look  till  it  ceased  to 
quiver,  then  rode  away  in  the  direction  taken  by 
his  men,  leaving  Burns's  horse  standing  stock-still, 
with  its  nose  against  its  master's  shoulder. 

A  dark  cloud  had  crept  up  the  west  meantime, 
and  now  a  dull  roar,  heavy  and  ominous,  jarred  the 
air.  Lightning  twinkled  across  the  chasms  be- 
tween great,  tumbled  masses  of  vapor. 

When  Rameau  saw  the  approaching  storm  a 
change  came  over  his  face.  A  close  observer 
could  have  discovered  that  this  strong,  crime-hard- 
ened heart  was  afraid  of  the  spirit  that  rode  the 
hurricane. 

He  urged  his  horse  to  a  swift  gallop  along  the 


122  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

trail,  reloading  his  pistol  as  he  went.  It  was  quite 
out  of  the  question  for  him  to  reach  any  house 
before  the  coming-ou  of  the  wind  and  rain  which 
he  well  knew  the  cloud  was  bringing ;  but  he 
recollected  that  there  was  a  low,  cane-thatched 
shed  a  little  way  off  the  trail,  which  might  serve 
to  shelter  him  and  his  horse.  It  had  been  built 
by  a  man  who  had  camped  there  with  his  negroes 
while  passing  through  the  country.  Rameau 
reached  it  just  as  the  first  flurry  of  the  wind 
went  over  the  tree-tops. 

Behind  this  advance  ripple  came  the  great,  ocean- 
like  body  of  the  storm,  and  when  it  struck  the 
wood  there  was  a  mighty,  rending  sound  ;  the  earth 
shook,  the  sky  appeared  to  fall,  giant  trees  were 
snapped  like  reeds,  and  the  whole  forest  bowed 
down  before  the  hurricane. 

Along  with  the  wind  roared  a  level  current  of 
rain,  beaten  into  white,  whirling  spray  that  swept 
the  ground. 

Bolt  after  bolt  of  lightning  fell  upon  the  forest, 
splintering  the  pines  and  carving  spiral  grooves 
down  the  tough  boles  of  the  oaks. 

Rameau  clung  to  his  frightened  horse,  expecting 
death  every  moment. 

The  rain  was  a  deluge,  and  it  was  driven  with 
such  force  that  it  was  like  breasting  a  mountain- 
torrent  to  stand  in  it. 

Some  of  the  lithe,  slender  trees  bent  down  and 
beat  the  ground  with  their  tops.  The  noise  was  a 
tumult  of  the  most  awful  sounds. 

It  rains  on  the  just  and  the  unjust,  the  living  and 


BURNS   AND   MAC  COLLOUGH.  123" 

the  dead.  Burns's  horse  stood  by  the  old  man's 
body  and  trembled,  but  would  not  go,  while  the 
rain  poured,  the  lightning  crashed  and  the  hurri- 
cane flung  the  trees  together  in  heaps. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

SOME   SMILES   AND   SOME    FROWNS. 

The  guests  at  Chateau  d'Or  were  not  disturbed 
by  the  dramatic  scene  going  on  in  the  room  where 
Pairfax,  Colonel  Loring  and  Mr.  Vernon  were 
grouped  together  under  such  peculiar  circum- 
stances. 

Mrs.  Vernon  and  Pauline  were  alert  and  facile 
hostesses,  and  as  the  custom  of  the  time  permitted 
them  a  wide  latitude  in  their  method  of  entertain- 
ing, it  was  easy  for  them  to  make  the  most  of  the 
occasion. 

Everybody  felt  the  charm  of  the  place,  with  its 
flowery  vistas,  its  effect  of  amplitude,  its  surprises 
of  light,  shadow,  color,  perspective  and  its  pervad- 
ing air  of  generous  wealth  and  hospitable  welcome. 

Lieutenant  Ballanche  could  not  have  been  alto- 
gether unaware  that  he  was  one  of  the  chief  attrac- 
tions of  the  occasion,  yet  he  showed  no  sign  of  such 
consciousness.  Everywhere  he  was  met  with  smiles 
and  with  words  and  looks  of  approval.  This  was 
probably  due  as  much  to  his  military  reputation  as 
[124! 


SOME   SMILES    AND   SOME   FROWNS.  125 

to  his  fine  form,  his  clear-cut  face  and  his  extreme 
ease  and  grace  of  manner. 

When  he  danced  with  Mile.  Marie  de  Sezannes 
the  thought  flashed  through  the  company  that  never 
had  a  handsomer  couple  been  seen  in  New  Orleans 
society. 

Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes  was  a  dark  brunette, 
tall,  stately  and  of  superb  form,  with  the  perfect 
skin,  teeth  and  eyes  which  have  always  made  Creole 
beauty  so  distinctive  and  emphatic.  She  was  richly 
dressed,  with  just  enough  of  dark  scarlet  showing  in 
her  gown  to  contrast  excellently  with  her  complex- 
ion. She  was  loaded  with  jewels  till  she  glittered 
like  a  savage  princess,  but  her  manner  was  exquis- 
itely refined  and  modest.  Tall  as  Lieutenant  Bal- 
lanche  was,  Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes's  head  rose 
above  his  shoulder  as  she  leaned  on  his  arm. 

Pauline  had  been  dancing  with  a  short,  dark-eyed 
young  man,  who  was  now  telling  her  what  a  friend 
her  father  had  been  to  him.  The  reader,  being 
present,  would  have  recognized  this  gentleman  at  a 
glance  as  one  of  our  acquaintances  of  the  Pearl 
River  woods,  known  in  history  as  John  A.  Murrell, 
but  passing  upon  the  present  occasion  as  Wilfred 
Parker,  son  of  a  rich  Tennessee  farmer.  They 
stood  for  a  brief  space  near  the  festooned  railing 
of  the  stairway,  and  Parker's  quick  restless  eyes 
soon  singled  out  Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes  and 
Lieutenant  Ballanche. 

"  Your  pardon,  but  who  is  the  young  lady  on  the 
lieutenant's  arm  ?"  he  inquired  in  his  brusque  but 
fairly  modulated  voice. 


126  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

"  It  is  one  of  my  sweetest  friends.  It  is  Made- 
moiselle Marie  de  Sezannes." 

"  She  is  superbly  beautiful." 

"  Yes,  every  one  says  so  ;  and  she  is  as  good  as 
she  is  lovely." 

"  Her  face  shows  that.  The  lieutenant  looks  as 
if  he  were  in  love  with  her.  Ah —  What  is  the  lieu- 
tenant's name  ?" 

"  Ballanche.  He  is  the  famous  young  Indian 
fighter.  He  was  with  General  Jackson." 

"  These  fighting  men  make  their  way  easily  with 
the  young  ladies.  I  wish  I  knew  how  to  fight." 

"  Lieutenant  Ballanche  thinks  that  we  may  have 
fighting  here." 

"Not  to-night." 

"  You  choose  to  make  light  in  a  very  serious  sub- 
ject, I  fear.  He  says  that  the  British  are  going  to 
attack  New  Orleans." 

"  If  that  is  the  case,  I  shall  set  out  for  Tennessee 
in  the  morning.  It  makes  me  nervous  to  think  of 
danger." 

Pauline  looked  at  him  to  see  whether  he  was 
chaffing  or  speaking  seriously.  Although  he  met 
her  eyes  with  a  bold,  almost  boyishly  frank  gaze, 
there  was  something  in  his  face  that  troubled  her. 

He  laughed,  and  said  that  he  did  not  think  there 
was  any  danger  of  an  attack  being  soon  made. 

The  lieutenant  came  up  with  Mademoiselle  de 
Sezannes  on  his  arm.  Both  were  evidently  in  high 
spirits.  Pauline  presented  Wilfred  Parker,  and  then 
some  duty  called  her  away. 

When  the  eyes  of  the  two  men  met,  it  was  like 


SOME    SMILES   AND   SOME   FROWNS.  127 

flint  meeting  steel,  so  cold  did  they  appear  and  so 
sharply  flew  out  the  commonplaces  of  polite  but 
meaningless  intercourse.  Parker  very  much  desired 
a  further  acquaintance  with  Mademoiselle  de  Sez- 
annes  ;  for  he  understood  at  a  glance  that  she  was 
rich  as  well  as  beautiful.  Ballanche  had  no  thought 
of  permitting  the  young  lady  to  leave  his  side  so 
long  as  he  could  hold  her. 

Parker  saw  this,  or  felt  it,  and  at  once  drew  upon 
his  resources  of  boldness  and  enterprise.  Self-reli- 
ance was  inexhaustible  in  him,  and  he  always  had 
an  expedient  which  just  fitted  an  exigency.  Made- 
moiselle de  Sezannes  was  impressed  with  the  re- 
markable personal  charm  of  this  handsome  youth, 
and  was  caught  by  the  lure  of  his  original  and 
forthright  manner.  Perhaps  she  discovered  at  a 
glance  that  he  admired  her,  and  that  he  would  not 
be  slow  to  fall  at  her  feet.  Sometimes  a  discovery 
of  this  sort  is  very  fascinating  to  a  young  woman. 
It  was  much  more  apt  to  be  so  then  than  now. 
Parker  would  not  be  shaken  off  by  the  lieutenant's 
coldness,  but  stood  close  to  the  beautiful  girl,  look- 
ing boldly  into  her  face,  and  speaking  with  fluency 
and  engaging  versatility. 

Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes  dropped  her  fan.  In 
those  days,  young  ladies  sometimes  did  this  very 
skillfully  ;  it  was  a  way  of  testing  the  promptness 
and  gracefulness  of  her  admirers.  We  must  not 
say  that  Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes'  fan  fell  in 
accordance  with  a  design  of  this  sort  ;  certainly, 
she  let  it  fall  with  a  most  innocent  air  and  with  a 
pretty  little  start  and  a  step  backward. 


128  THE   KING   OF    HONEY   ISLAND. 

Lieutenant  Ballanche  was  a  quick  man,  a  man 
whose  ever)'  muscle  acted  with  almost  instantaneous 
promptness  at  need.  He  bent  toward  the  jeweled 
toy  at  once  ;  but  Parker  was  already  handing  it 
to  Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes  with  an  exquisite 
"bow.  Such  celerity  astounded  the  lieutenant ; 
indeed,  it  actually  offended  him,  and  his  face  showed 
it  in  spite  of  him. 

"That  is  a  remarkably  fine  ruby,  mademoiselle, 
in  the  hilt  of  your  fan,"  said  Parker,  after  gracefully 
receiving  her  thanks.  "  Such  a  stone  might  have  a 
history." 

"  Monsieur  Parker,  you  have  very  quick  eyes," 
she  smilingly  answered,  "  and  you  guess  well. 
This  stone  has  a  romantic  history.  Rochon,  the 
last  of  the  buccaneers,  gave  it  to  my  grandfather. 
It  is  known  as  the  buccaneer  or  Caribbean  ruby." 

*'  That  is  very  interesting.  Will  you  kindly  let 
me  look  at  it.  I  have  a  passion  for  old  gems." 

"  Oh,  certainly,  monsieur.  Every  one  desires  to 
look  at  it.  It  is  a  famous  little  pebble." 

He  took  the  fan  and  held  it  so  that  the  light  fell 
favorably  upon  the  rosy-hued  setting. 

"  Superb  !"  he  exclaimed.  "  It  glows  like  fire  and 
has  the  color  of  a  red  cherry's  juice.  Thank  you, 
mademoiselle  ;  it  is  a  great  pleasure  to  have  seen 
the  beautiful  thing." 

Parker  was  exquisitely  dressed,  and  upon  his  own 
hands  and  bosom  sparkled  diamonds  of  no  mean 
size.  His  air  at  that  moment  was  that  of  a  con- 
noiseur  delighted  to  have  been  permitted  to  look  at 
a  marvel  in  his  special  field  of  knowledge.  He 


SOME   SMILES    AND   SOME   FKOWNS.  129 

lacked  the  peculiar  air  of  ease  and  finish,  so  to  speak, 
that  made  Lieutenant  Ballanche  so  notable  in  com- 
pany ;  but  there  were  a  self-sufficiency,  a  readiness 
and  a  sharp  vigilance  that  even  the  famous  lieuten- 
ant could  not  command.  Just  a  hint  of  the  devil- 
may-care  played  over  his  features.  Evidently  he 
was  one  to  watch,  if  you  would  not  have  him  beat 
you  in  any  race. 

He  looked  boldly  into  Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes* 
eyes,  and  said : 

"  Will  Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes  honor  me  with 
the  next  dance  ?" 

Ballanche  had  been  just  on  the  point  of  asking 
the  great  pleasure  ;  but  the  quick  youth  had  fore- 
stalled him. 

"Yes,  monsieur,  with  pleasure,"  she  answered, 
"  but  let  us  pass  one  dance,  if  you  please,  I  am  a 
trifle  tired." 

"  Take  my  arm,  I  will  find  you  a  seat." 

He  stepped  close  to  her  and  bowed.  He  was  so 
prompt,  so  taking  in  some  way,  and  withal  so  out- 
right that  there  was  no  denying  him. 

A  moment  later  Lieutenant  Ballanche  found  him- 
self standing  there  alone,  while  the  tall  girl  was 
walking  away  leaning  with  superb  grace  on  the  arm 
of  the  spry  little  muscular  stranger.  A  flush  of 
anger  mantled  the  usually  cool  cheek  of  the  soldier, 
and  he  turned  on  his  heel,  as  if  to  give  an  order  to 
a  company  behind  him.  He  came  near  upsetting  an 
old  gentleman  of  short  but  portly  figure. 

"  Your  pardon,  sir." 

"Ah,  pardon," 


130  THE    KING   OF    HONEY   ISLAND. 

Both  men  bowed  and  apologized. 

The  old  gentleman  was  Madatnoiselle  de  Sezannes 
father,  Octave  de  Sezannes,  the  banker  and  slave- 
trader.  He  rubbed  his  hands  together  in  a  business- 
like way  and  smiled  with  that  perfunctory  readi- 
ness noticeable  in  men  who  make  money  by  sharp 
turns.  The  seal  of  his  watch  was  a  maltese  cross  of 
gold  set  with  diamonds. 

"  Pardon,  monsieur,  we  heavy  men  move  but 
slowly  and  awkwardly ;  we  are  in  everybody's 
way." 

"  But  it  is  I  who  am  to  blame,  Monsieur  de  Sezan- 
nes ;  I  sprang  around  as  if  I  meant  to  run  away.  I 
was  angry,  however,  and  you  know  an  angry  man  is 
a  fool." 

He  spoke  lightly,  but  the  ring  of  his  sudden  Creole 
fury  was  not  yet  out  of  his  voice. 

"  I  saw,  I  saw  ;  I  know  what  you  mean,"  said  De 
Sezannes,  with  the  air  of  one  from  whom  nothing 
escapes.  "  The  young  fellow  swooped  down  like  a 
hawk  and  took  Marie  right  away  from  you.  Ha, 
ha,  ha  !" 

Lieutenant  Ballanche  joined  the  old  gentleman 
but  dryly  in  his  little  laugh. 

Through  a  rift  in  the  company  and  beyond  a  cur- 
tained doorway  he  could  see  Madamoiselle  de  Sezan- 
nes sitting  in  a  tall,  carved  chair  and  Parker  stand- 
ing by  her  side.  They  appeared  to  be  charmed  with 
each  other's  company.  A  little  later  they  were 
going  through  a  dance  together,  while  Ballanche 
was  taking  wine  with  Monsieur  de  Sezannes. 

In  the  meantime,  Mr.  Vernon  was   laboring  to 


SOME    SMILES    AND    SOME    FROWNS.  131 

convince  Fairfax  that  Colonel  Loring  was  not  Pierre 
Rameau.  Loring- himself  stood  by,  apparently  quite 
indifferent  as  to  the  outcome,  holding  his  head  high 
and  turning  his  half-closed,  inscrutable  eyes  toward 
the  ceiling. 

Fairfax  found  himself  in  a  predicament  very 
ifficult  for  one  of  his  temperament  and  disposi- 
tion to  control.  He  felt  that  he  could  not  be  mis- 
mistaken  ;  he  recollected  with  absolute  memory 
every  feature  of  the  face  disclosed  to  him  when  the 
loose  cloth  mask  of  the  robber  fell  partly  away  on 
that  very  noteworthy  night  in  March  over  at  Vas- 
seur's  place.  The  form  of  the  man,  the  peculiar 
beauty  of  his  hands  (long,  shapely,  muscular)  and 
then  the  ring  on  his  least  finger — that  of  itself  was 
identification  beyond  doubt ;  for  no  other  ring  like 
that  was,  in  all  probability,  ever  made.  Moreover, 
the  voice  was  unmistakable  and  the  peculiar,  half- 
nonchalant,  half -reckless  air  could  belong  to  no 
other  man. 

Still,  what  was  Fairfax  to  say  when  Mr.  Vernon 
sturdily,  even  peremptorily,  declared  that  the  per- 
son before  him  was  well  known  to  him,  intimately 
known  to  him,  indeed,  and  was  a  valued  and  distin- 
guished friend  of  his,  just  returned  from  a  long 
sojourn  in  Mexico  ?  It  was  strange  beyond  com- 
prehension, and  there  was  no  disputing  about  it  ; 
for  surely  Mr.  Vernon  ought  to  know,  and  beyond 
question  he  would  not  have  such  a  man  as  Pierre 
Rameau  in  his  house  as  an  honored  guest. 

Of  course  Fairfax  had  but  a  crude  knowledge  of 
the  social,  political  and  moral  condition  of  New 


132  THE   KING   OF    HONEY   ISLAND. 

Orleans  at  that  time.  He  was  too  close  to  the  scene 
for  his  vision  to  have  a  correct  focus  upon  it,  and  he 
knew  but  little  of  the  comparatively  recent  history 
of  the  city  in  which  Wilkinson  had  schemed  and 
toward  which  all  of  Burr's  treasonable  plans  had 
gravitated,  nor  was  it  possible  for  him  to  imagine 
the  extent  to  which  the  lawlessness  had  insinuated 
itself  into  the  very  life-tissues  of  New  Orleans 
society. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  this  little  mistake  has  happened," 
said  Mr.  Vernon,  turning  from  one  to  the  other, 
and  trying  to  make  the  whole  thing  appear  of  no 
consequence  ;  "  but  it's  quite  an  honor,  Loring,  to 
be  taken  for  Pierre  Rameau,  who  is  reputed  to  be 
the  handsomest  man  in  the  South.  You  know  my 
friend  Fairfax  here  had  quite  an  adventure  with  that 
renowned  robber — was  robbed  by  him,  in  short, 
and  holds  a  just  grudge  against  him." 

"Ah,  I  see,"  said  Loring.     "  I   understand   now. 
He  has  taken  me  for  a  robber." 
."You've  heard  of  Rameau  ?" 

"  No ;  but  you  must  recall  that  I  have  been  in 
Mexico  for  nearly  three  years." 

"  Certainly.  Well,  gentlemen,  this  ought  to  be 
satisfactory.  Now,  then,  the  broken  finger ;  let's 
look  to  that.  Mr.  Vernon  bustled  a  little  and  pro- 
duced some  bandage-cloth  that  a  servant  had  fetched. 

Colonel  Loring  promptly  set  the  fractured  bone, 
and  with  great  skill  and  rapidity  applied  the  wrap- 
ping. 

"  There,"  he  said  ;  "  you  are  all  right,  sir.  You 
will  have  no  trouble  with  it." 


SOME   SMILES   AJSD    SOME   FROWNS.  133 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  responded  Fairfax  coldly 
enough,  in  spite  of  an  effort  to  regain  his  lost  temper 
and  appear  kindly  polite. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  remarked  Mr.  Vernon,  laying 
a  hand  on  the  arm  of  each  and  smiling  from  one  to 
the  other  in  his  large  way,  "  you  are  my  guests  and 
my  friends  ;  be  friends  to  each  other.  "Forget  this 
curious  little  mischance,  this  awkward  mistake." 

By  this  time  Fairfax  had  shaken  off  the  outer  coat- 
ing of  his  mood  and  with  something  like  his  habit- 
ual frankness  began  to  apologize. 

*  I  am  quite  sorry,"  he  exclaimed,  "  and  chagrined 
that  I  should  have  spoken  so  hastily,  Colonel  Loring. 
I  hope  you  understand  my  embarrassment,  sir,  and 
will  forgive  my  passionate  words.  I  really  thought 
you  were  Pierre  Rameau." 

"  It's  nothing  at  all,"  insisted  the  colonel.  "  I 
don't  care  a  straw  about  it.  Let  it  drop  here,  sir, 
and  be  forgotten." 

Somehow  in  an  instant  Fairfax  regretted  his  apol- 
ogy. Surely,  this  man  was  Pierre  Rameau — it  was 
he  from  head  to  foot. 

Mr.  Vernon,  still  inclined  to  be  heavily  impetuous, 
kept  his  hold  on  the  arm  of  each.  With  his  double 
muscles,  not  the  least  impaired  by  age,  he  propelled 
them  to  the  dining-room,  where  he  made  them  eulo- 
gize his  wines  and  his  brandy. 

In  the  midst  of  a  rapid  and  light  conversation, 
Loring  suddenly  exclaimed  : 

"  Please  excuse  me,  gentlemen.  I  am  losing  a 
greater  pleasure  than  even  your  company  affords 


THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND, 

me.  Miss  Vernon  promised  to  dance  with  me. 
Excuse  me." 

And  he  hastened  to  the  drawing-rooms.  Fairfax 
looked  after  him  with  gloomy  eyes  and  flushed 
cheeks.  The  bare  thought  of  Pauline's  dancing 
with  that  man  went  like  a  leaden  bullet  to  his 
heart.  In  fact,  just  then  his  heart  was  particularly 
sensitive  in  this  regard,  for  it  seemed  to  him  that 
Lieutenant  Ballanche  had  been  doing  nothing  but 
dance  with  Pauline  the  whole  evening ;  and  that 
man,  or  boy,  rather,  Parker — she  had  been  unneces- 
sarily agreeable  to  him.  These  were  not  exactly 
the  thoughts  of  Fairfax.  We  must  acquit  him  of 
actual  petty  jealousy.  But  somehow  he  felt  left 
out  for  the  time  being,  or  as  if  he  had  failed  to 
seize  opportunity  with  manly  promptness. 

He  wandered  into  the  conservatory,  where  many 
tropical  plants  were  flourishing.  Here  the  music 
reached  him  in  subdued  waves  and  throbs  ;  the 
brisk  phrases  of  the  violins  were  softened  and  sen- 
timentalized by  the  distance  till  they  seemed  to 
creep  through  his  sense,  trailing  a  nameless  melan- 
choly behind.  He  stroked  his  moustache  and  gazed 
vacantly  about. 

Pauline  felt  some  vague  but  troublesome  stir  of 
excitement  in  her  heart  when  Colonel  Loring  came 
to  remind  her  of  the  promised  dance.  It  was  as  if 
she  feared  him  and  yet  felt  drawn  toward  him  ;  as 
if  some  mystery  in  his  nature  or  character  pos- 
sessed a  fascination,  while  at  the  same  time  it  sug- 
gested dark  doubts. 

There  is  a  lure  in  vailed  and  shadowy  things  ;  we 


SOME    SMILES   AND    SOME   FROWNS.  135 

cannot  resist  the  influence  of  those  elusive  elements 
which,  in  some  way,  like  fine  films  of  connection, 
set  us  in  communication  with  the  unusual,  the 
strange,  the  romantic.  It  is  especially  dangerous 
for  a  young  girl  to  come  within  the  reach  of  such 
an  influence  when  a  strong-willed  and  handsome 
man  is  at  the  base  of  it.  The  snake  and  the  bird, 
the  fascination  of  a  deadly  thing — we  all  know  how 
nature  lends  to  fatal  venom  the  tender  glow  of  a. 
precious  elixir. 

Colonel  Loring  was  an  interesting  talker.  He 
had  travelled  in  many  lands.  His  mind  was  stored 
with  recollections  of  adventure,  of  perils  by  land 
and  sea,  and  these  he  could  set  in  contrast  with 
pleasant  experiences  of  social  life  in  many  a  gay 
city  of  the  old  world.  He  was  in  the  early  prime 
of  manhood,  strong,  in  perfect  health,  and  he  had, 
when  he  wished,  a  way  of  sending  his  vigor  through 
his  firm,  positive  voice  into  every  word  he  spoke. 

In  his  presence,  with  his  hand  clasping  hers  now 
and  again  during  the  old-fashioned  dance,  Pauline 
felt  that  she  was  acting  a  part  in  a  romance,  and 
the  sensation  lifted  the  color  into  her  cheeks  and  lips. 

When  the  dance  ended,  Colonel  Loring  slipped 
her  arm  through  his  and  led  her  through  a  broad, 
garlanded  doorway  into  the  conservatory. 

"  It  is  deliciously  cool  here.  Let  us  take  a  turn 
or  two  up  and  down  this  charming  aisle.  This  is 
like  Mexico,"  he  said,  touching  a  vigorous  cactus. 
"  I  can  almost  feel  the  winds  of  the  plains." 

"  Life  here  must  seem  very  dull  and  tame  to  you 


136  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

after  all  your  stirring  adventures,"  she  suggested, 
looking  up  with  frank  interest  into  his  face. 

"  No.  It  is  delightful.  I  am  enjoying  every 
moment  of  it.  I  wish  I  could  forget  my  whole  past 
and  begin  anew  from  this  moment." 

There  was  a  ring  of  infinite  regret  in  his  words, 
along  with  something  wistful,  that  thrilled  Pauline's 
heart. 

She  was  about  to  speak  with  all  the  outright 
sympathy  of  her  impulsive  nature  ;  she  was  going 
to  enter  straightway  into  the  spirit  of  his  mood ; 
her  words  were  already  at  her  lips,  and  her  eyes 
were  upturned  to  his  with  an  expression  of  earnest- 
ness and  deep  interest,  when,  just  at  the  angle  of 
he  way  between  some  tall  vases,  they  came  upon 
Fairfax  standing  quite  still  with  folded  arms.  His 
eyes  met  Pauline's  as  she  turned  them  quickly  from 
Loring's  face.  Then  the  two  men  exchanged 
glances  which  conveyed  no  sign  of  pleasure.  A 
deadly  hatred,  indeed,  which  had  been  kept  hidden 
by  both,  showed  itself  ominously,  as  Loring,  with 
head  high  and  a  sinister  smile  on  his  lips,  passed 
on,  taking  Pauline  with  him. 

She  felt  in  some  indirect  way  the  change  that 
passed  over  the  dark  face  of  the  man  whose  arm 
she  was  touching,  and  something  in  the  manner  of 
Fairfax  affected  her  unpleasantly.  At  the  moment 
she  did  not  examine  or  in  fact  fully  realize  her 
impression  ;  but  later,  when  Lieutenant  Ballanche 
was  telling  her  that  in  a  day  or  two  he  was  going 
away  to  report  to  General  Jackson  at  some  place  in 
the  interior,  and  when  she  saw  how  piqued  and 


SOME    SMILES   AND    SOME   FROWNS.  137 

almost  savage  he  looked  as  he  glanced  at  Parker 
who  was  dancing  again  with  Mademoiselle  de 
Sezannes,  she  suddenly  understood  or  half  under- 
stood what  was  happening,  save  that  it  was  impos- 
sible to  connect  herself  with  it.  These  men,  she 
surmised,  were,  all  four  of  them,  ready  to  quarrel 
about  Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes,  and  the  thought 
at  once  suggested  a  duel  or  two. 

In  those  days  duels  were  of  almost  daily  and 
nightly  occurrence  in  New  Orleans  and  at  the  famous 
dueling  grounds  of  the  surrounding  country.  Con- 
sequently death  on  the  sword's  point  or  at  the 
pistol's  mouth  was  not  so  shocking  to  think  of  as  it 
is  now.  The  creole  girl  of  our  story's  time  could 
not  fairly  understand  the  philosophy  of  it,  but  still 
she  recognized  the  importance  of  what  was  called 
"  the  only  method  by  which  insulted  honor  may  be 
defended  and  purified,"  or  as  another  old  writer 
states  it :  4<  the  swiftest,  the  fairest  and  the  most 
satisfactory  mode  of  settling  matters  of  deadly  con- 
cern between  gentlemen." 

The  party  at  Chateau  d'Or  was  likely  to  be 
pleasantly  remembered  ;  but  it  was  also,  as  we  shall 
see,  the  generating  point  for  some  disagreeable 
developments  and  some  strange  and  sinister  com- 
plications. 

"  It  has  been  delightful,  charming,"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Vernon,  flinging  herself  into  Pauline's  arms 
after  the  last  guest  had  gone.  "  Every  one  was 
happy — and  how  lovely  the  whole  house  was  !  And 
you  were  so  beautiful,  dear,  so  very,  very  beauti- 
ful !" 


138  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

Pauline  returned  her  mother's  vehement  embrace, 
and  they  were  standing  thus  linked  in  each  other's 
arms  when  Mr.  Vernon  approached  and  encircled 
both  with  his  bear-like  hug. 

Standing  there,  the  group  was  a  striking  one.  It 
was  a  living  tableau  of  love  as  intense  as  it  was 
strange  and  beautiful.  There  were  the  effect  of 
high  refinement  in  it  and  a  delicate  tenderness ; 
but  there  was  also  something  if  but  a  hint  of  the 
ungoverned  and  the  untrained. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

COLONEL   LORING    AND    PAULINE. 

Fairfax  went  home  from  the  party  at  Chateau  d'- 
Or  feeling  that  it  had  been  an  unfortunate  affair  for 
him,  and  yet  he  could  not  have  explained  with  any 
degree  of  exactitude  why  it  had  been  so. 

The  adventure  with  the  hunchback  lingered  in 
his  memory  as  something  picturesquely  sinister  and 
pathetic  ;  then  Colonel  Loring  arose  before  him 
whichever  way  he  turned  his  mind,  with  the  grow- 
ing certainity  that  he  was  identical  with  Pierre  Ra- 
meau,  the  robber  ;  but  above  and  beyond  all,  Fair- 
fax was  annoyed  with  himself,  because  he  had  let  the 
evening  go  by  without  paying  any  special  attention 
to  Pauline. 

He  felt  humiliated  that  he  should  have  frittered 


COLONEL    LORING   AND   PAULINE.  139 

away  so  much  time  with  the  wound  on  his  hand 
which,  after  all,  seemed  so  small  a  thing,  while  men 
like  Parker  and  Lieutenant  Ballanche  were  boldly 
seizing  upon  every  advantage  offered  them  for  cul- 
tivating the  good  will  of  Mrs.  Vernon  and  her  daugh- 
ter. He  recognized  himself  as  one  of  those  imagin- 
ative, self-conscious  youths  who  dream  that  the 
smallest  matter  affecting  them  is  of  prime  import- 
ance to  the  rest  of  mankind.  He  could  not  resist 
the  impulse  to  laugh  in  a  bitter  way  at  the  turn 
affairs  had  taken  with  him.  Like  a  small  boy,  he 
had  made  faces  over  a  sore  finger,  while  the  most 
important  crisis  (as  he  now  felt)  of  his  whole  life  had 
drawn  past  him. 

Imaginative  young  men  not  unfrequently  regard  a 
love  matter  with  a  sense  of  its  incomparable  value  to 
themselves,  and  they  feel  indirect  but  deep  amaze- 
ment when  made  aware  that  it  is  of  little  signifi- 
cance to  any  one  else  in  the  whole  world. 

The  truth  was,  however,  that  Fairfax  realized  in 
a  way  how  little  right  he  had  to  connect  Pauline 
with  any  love-dream  of  his  own.  He  had  never 
spoken  a  word  of  love  to  her,  and  this  seemed  inex- 
plicable to  him  now.  Why  had  he  not  ?  Perhaps 
he  had  been  foolishly  sure  of  his  standing  in  her 
regard  ;  he  had  taken  too  much  for  granted. 

Reflections  like  these,  while  they  made  him 
uneasy,  as  is  one  who  consciously  walks  upon  treach- 
erous ground,  led  him  to  resolve  that  Pauline  should 
hear  his  plea  and  give  him  his  answer  at  the  first 
opportune  moment.  Young  men  often  make  these 
resolves  and  almost  as  frequently,  perhaps,  recede 


140  THE   KINO   OF    HONEY    ISLAND. 

from  them  when  the  crucial  moment  comes.  It  is  love 
that  makes  men  brave,  and  it  is  love  as  well  that 
makes  them  cowards. 

Tho  summer  went  by — as  summers  do  in  that 
beautiful  gulf-coast  climate — with  days  that  burned 
through  the  noon  and  softened  down  to  delicious 
coolness  toward  nightfall,  and  nights  whose  dreamy 
splendor  made  the  Creole  city,  with  all  its  gayety, 
its  intrigue,  its  excitements,  a  place  of  indescribable 
allurements. 

In  the  autumn,  the  English  fleet  was  making 
ready  to  swing  round  the  gulf-coast.  Colonel 
Nichols  had  arrived  at  Pensacola,  and  acting  for  the 
British  government,  had  set  on  foot  a  scheme  by 
which  he  hoped  to  stir  up  the  Indians  to  renewed 
hostilities  and  at  the  same  time  induce  the  white 
population  of  Louisiana  to  revolt  against  the  United 
States  government. 

Lieutenant  Ballanche  went  away  to  join  General 
Jackson,  to  whom  he  reported  the  situation  in  the 
New  Orleans  district,  and  did  not  return  until  about 
the  first  days  in  December. 

Colonel  Loring  also  disappeared,  going,  it  was 
understood,  on  a  mission  connected  with  some 
scheme  of  his  in  Mississippi,  while  Parker,  the 
shrewd  and  self-confident  youth,  had  bidden  his 
many  friends  in  New  Orleans  good-bye  and  set  out 
for  his  home  in  Tennessee  about  the  first  of 
August. 

Fairfax  had  still  another  cause  for  discontent 
which  he  made  the  most  of.  Colonel  Loring  had  res- 
cued Pauline  and  Mrs.  Vernon  from  imminent  dan- 


COLONEL    LORING   AND   PAULINE. 

ger  in  the  midst  of  a  .crowd  of  rioting  sailors  and 
boatmen.  The  ladies  were  in  the  Vernon  carriage, 
and  just  as  it  turned  a  street-corner  they  found 
themselves  surrounded  by  a  mob  of  men  who  were 
fighting  with  staves,  knives,  pistols,  cutlasses  and 
whatever  other  weapons  they  could  command. 

Aside  from  the  actual  danger  of  the  situation  ; 
the  brutal  fury  of  the  combatants ;  the  atrocious 
profanity  and  the  sickening  sounds  of  slashing  and 
stabbing  and  shooting  ;  the  bewilderment  and 
fright  of  the  coachman,  who  presently  abandoned 
his  place  to  seek  safety  in  flight,  and  the  wild  rear- 
ing and  plunging  of  the  horses  in  the  midst  of  the 
crowding  and  heedless  mass  of  rioters — the  ladies 
had  good  cause  to  faint  at  the  mere  thought  of  what 
brutality  the  scene  implied,  if  they  had  been  of  the 
temperament  dear  to  old  romance.  They  called 
loudly  for  help,  but  who  was  likely  to  hear  or  to 
heed  ? 

Fairfax  chanced  to  be  near  the  outer  fringe  of 
the  crowd  and  recognized  Pauline's  voice.  He 
nished  to  the  spot,  only  to  find  that  Colonel  Loring 
had  already  rendered  all  the  service  that  was  needed 
— had  sprung,  indeed,  to  the  coachman's  seat  and 
was  turning  the  horses  down  a  narrow  side-street. 
The  eyes  of  the  two  men  met  for  an  instant  at  this 
point,  Loring  giving  to  his  glance  an  expression  of 
triumph,  as  Fairfax  thought,  and  Fairfax  himself 
scowling  so  viciously  that,  although  Pauline  looked 
straight  into  his  face,  she  did  not  recognize  him  at 
the  time. 

Colonel  Loring's  promptness  and  nerve  doubtless 


142  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

saved  the  ladies  from  death  or  great  injury.  He 
drove  the  carriage  to  Chateau  d'Or  and  received 
such  thanks  and  such  looks  of  gratitude  as  Fairfax 
would  have  fought  around  the  earth  to  win. 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  did  it,  and  so  easily,  too  !" 
said  Mrs.  Vernon,  after  they  had  entered  the  parlor. 
Loring  was  still  standing,  hat  in  hand.  "  Pleaae  sit 
down,  Colonel  Loring,  and  tell  us  all  about  it. 
Mercy,  how  my  heart  is  still  fluttering  !  How  did 
you  manage  to  get  to  us  and  take  us  out  of  that 
horrible  place  ?" 

"  It  was  nothing,"  he  said,  with  his  cold,  peculiar 
smile.  "  I  merely  turned  the  horses  and  drove 
away.  Any  little  boy  could  have  done  the  same." 

"  But,  no  ;  that  were  impossible,  sir,"  Pauline 
urged.  "  Nobody  but  you  could  have  done  what 
you  did.  When  that  dark,  little  man  sprang  at  your 
throat  with  the  knife  I  thought  he  had  stabbed  you  ; 
but  you  struck  him  with  your  hand  and  he  fell  quite 
as  if  he  had  been  shot.  Oh,  it  was  dreadful,  and 
you  did  not  appear  to  care  for  it  at  all  !" 

Loring's  narrow,  fascinating  eyes  gazed  steadily 
into  her  face  as  he  said  : 

"  1  have  been  accustomed  to  dangers  so  much 
greater  than  that  little  affair  could  possibly  bring, 
that  I  hardly  count  myself  a  hero,  Miss  Vernon,  for 
having  piloted  you  out  of  a  trifling  annoyance. 
Pray  do  not  think  of  it  as  a  matter  of  any  import- 
ance whatever.  I  deem  it  a  bit  of  good  fortune  for 
me  that  I  can  be  at  Chateau  d'Or  once  more  before 
I  take  my  leave  of  New  Orleans  for  a  time." 

"And    you    are    going    away?"     Mrs.    Vernon 


COLONEL   LORING   AND   PAULINE. 

inquired  with  quick  interest,  that  shaded  sharply 
into  regret.  "  Going  away  from  us  ?" 

"Yes — the  war.  I  cannot  rest  idle  while  the 
country  needs  soldiers." 

Pauline  thought  he  looked  the  very  model  of 
what  a  soldier  ought  to  be. 

"  And  where  shall  you  join  the  army  ?"  she 
asked. 

"  I  do  not  know  yet  ;  my  place  has  not  yet  been 
assigned  to  me  ;  but  that  matters  little.  A  soldier's 
business  is  to  obey  orders  and  have  no  prefer- 
ences." 

"  Lieutenant  Ballanche  is  gone  already,  I  believe  ; 
at  least  he  bade  us  good-bye,  and  was  expecting  to 
go  to  the  interior  the  next  day." 

"  Yes,  the  governor  sent  him  to  look  after  some 
outlaws  over  on  the  Mississippi  border,  I  believe  ; 
he's  likely  to  have  some  amusement  before  he 
accomplishes  his  errand,  I  should  think." 

"You  gentlemen  have  strange  ideas  of  amuse- 
ment. What  entertainment  do  you  see  in  fighting 
robbers  ?"  interposed  Mrs.  Vernon  in  a  deprecatory 
tone,  that  yet  had  an  admiration  point  in  it.  "  Is  it 
such  great  sport  to  kill  and  be  killed  ?" 

"  I  don't  call  it  sport,"  he  said,  turning  his  gaze 
slowly  from  Pauline  to  her  mother,  "  but  the  excite- 
ment is  a  mighty  tonic.  When  a  man  is  hunting  a 
man,  or  is  hunted  by  one,  he  feels,  to  the  limit  of 
possibility,  the  true  meaning  of  self-reliance." 

"  But  it  is  terrible  !"  exclaimed  Pauline.  "  It 
makes  men  worse  than  beasts  of  prey  !" 


144  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

Loring  laughed  a  slow,  heavy  laugh,  his  strong, 
mysterious  face  lighting  up  strangely. 

Mrs.  Vernon  and  Pauline  were  sitting  side  by 
side  upon  a  dark-tapestried  sofa.  Pauline  was  toy- 
ing with  her  mother's  hand. 

"  Isn't  the  whole  of  life  terrible  ?"  Loring 
demanded.  "  What,  after  all,  is  there  to  relieve  it 
of  its  dark  significance  ?" 

The  ladies  looked  disturbed.  What  he  had  said 
was  depressing  enough  under  the  circumstances  ; 
but  his  voice,  his  manner  and  his  inscrutable  face 
made  an  impression  singularly  startling.  It  was 
one  of  those  moments  that  come  to  all  of  us,  when 
hidden  things  of  strange  import  are  half  revealed  to 
what,  for  want  of  a  better  name,  we  call  our  inner 
consciousness. 

Pauline  was  aware  of  a  sudden  sympathy  for  this 
dark,  weather-stained,  scarred  veteran  who  seemed 
to  take  such  a  jaundiced  view  of  life.  Her  girl's 
heart  went  out  to  him  as  it  might  have  done  to  a 
beautiful  wounded  animal.  She  felt  the  weight  of 
his  vast  experience  with  evil  pressing  upon  her  with 
the  effect  of  infinite  pathos.  She  recalled  what  he 
had  said  to  her  on  the  evening  of  the  party,  and 
now,  as  she  looked  at  him  sitting  there  upright, 
muscular,  sun-tanned,  the  picture  of  resolute, 
defiant  health  and  vigor,  she  recognized  in  some 
way  the  romance  that  must  lie  behind  him  along 
the  way  he  had  come. 

"  The  business  of  a  soldier  must  be  sad  and  sad- 
dening," she  said,  "  and  I  do  not  wonder  at  your 


COLONEL   LORING    AND   PAULINE.  145 

view  of  life  ;  only  you  might  promise  yourself  rest 
and  happiness  when  the  war  is  ended." 

Mrs.  Vernon  was  called  away  just  then  to  meet 
some  friends  whom  a  servant  announced. 

As  she  arose  to  go,  she  made  an  apologetic 
gesture. 

"  Excuse  me,  but  pray  do  not  go  till  I  return," 
she  said. 

Why  she  had  spoken  thus  she  could  not  have 
explained,  save  by  admitting  that  he  was  a  fascin- 
ating man  to  whom  she  felt  that  she  owed  her  life 
and  her  daughter's. 

Pauline  involuntarily  made  a  movement  to  clutch 
her  mother's  hand  and  detain  her. 

A  faint  glow  of  feeling  suffused  Loring's  face ; 
but  no  person,  however  skilled  in  physiognomy, 
could  have  read  its  meaning.  In  some  way,  it 
might  have  reminded  one  of  that  flash  of  hope  now 
and  again  seen  in  the  face  of  a  man  on  the  eve  of 
his  execution. 

"  It  is  so  seldom  that  I  can  sit  in  a  beautiful  room 
like  this  and  converse  with — "  He  checked  himself  ; 
he  was  speaking  as  if  half  in  soliloquy.  "  I  shall 
never  forget,"  he  went  on,  with  a  slight  effort, 
"  how  beautiful  these  rooms  were  the  other  even- 
ing." 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  remember  it.  The 
house  was  lovely." 

"  And  you,  too,  were  as  lovely  as  an  angel.  I 
shall  never  forget  how  you  looked." 

The  color  came  quickly  to  Pauline's  cheeks  and 
lips  ;  but  flattery  was  tolerable  in  those  days ;  and 


146  THE   KINO   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

besides,  when  a  man  is  serious  and  sincere,  it  is  not 
in  woman's  nature  to  resent  his  admiration. 

"  My  dress  was  one  that  my  grandmother  wore 
when  she  was  a  girl,  only  I  had  it  done  over,"  she 
replied,  with  a  naive  show  of  interest  in  the  subject. 
"Every  one  said  that  it  was  very  quaint  and 
becoming.  I  like  those  old  things.  Don't  you?" 

"  It  was  you  that  became  the  dress  ;  you  made  it 
beautiful  ;  you  charmed  everybody.  The  dress  was 
nothing." 

Pauline  felt  a  sudden  desire  to  run  away  from 
him,  and  yet,  perhaps,  she  would  not  have  gone  if 
she  had  been  under  no  obligation  to  stay. 

"  The  occasion  was  exhilarating,"  she  managed  to 
say,  with  the  most  indifferent  air.  "  I  am  especially 
proud  that  every  one  enjoyed  it ;  for,  you  know,  it 
was  the  first  party  I  ever  gave.  And  didn't  you 
think  Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes  beautiful?  She 
captivated  all  the  gentlemen  ;  but,  then,  she  always 
does  with  her  superb  way  and — " 

"  She  looks  like  a  Spanish  Jewess,"  said  Loring, 
interrupting  her. 

"  But  she  is  not  like  one,  Colonel  Loring,"  replied 
Pauline. 

"  I  beg  pardon.  I  did  not  mean  to  imply  criticism. 
Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes  impressed  me  very  pleas- 
antly. It  is  not  so  bad  to  look  like  a  Jewess." 

He  arose  as  if  to  take  his  leave. 

"  But  you  promised  my  mother  to  wait  till  she 
returned,"  said  Pauline,  arising  also.  "  You  have 
not  forgotten  ?" 

"  .No  ;  I  will  wait.     But  I  never  sit  long.     I  have 


COLONEL   LOSING   AND   PAULINE.  14T 

this  way  of  getting  on  my  feet  almost  involuntarily. 
I  seem  to  be  made  for — to  be  upright." 

He  smiled  and  made  a  gesture  to  signify  he  was 
chaffing,  then  added : 

"  But  keep  your  seat,  Miss  Vernon  ;  I  will  walk 
to  and  fro,  if  you  will  permit  it,  while  we  continue 
our  conversation.  Do  you  know  this  is  more  like 
happiness  than  anything  that  has  come  to  me  for 
years  ?  I  must  make  the  most  of  it." 

He  pushed  toward  her  the  chair  in  which  he  had 
been  sitting. 

She  sat  down,  and  when  she  looked  up  with  her 
bright  smile,  her  dark,  vivacious  eyes  seemed  to 
dazzle  him.  He  turned  about  and  walked  with  a 
light,  singularly  springy  step  across  the  room  and 
back. 

"  My  father  is  restless  in  this  way  sometimes," 
she  said,  "  and  walks  the  floor  like  a  tiger  in  a  cage. 
When  I  ask  him  why  he  does  it,  he  always  says  that 
he  is  thinking  of  the  sea.  You  know  he  was  a  sailor 
a  long  time  ago." 

"  I  am  more  receptive  when  in  motion  ;  can  think 
more  clearly,  can  shake  off  a  fit  of  discontent  more 
easily.  I  walk  back  and  forth  when  I  wish  to 
remember  and  when  I  wish  to  forget.  Did  you 
ever  wish  to  forget  anything  ?" 

He  stopped  in  front  of  her,  with  his  head  high. 
His  face  irradiated  a  strange  light,  his  attitude  had 
a  fine  touch  of  the  dramatic — almost  the  melo- 
dramatic— in  it.  What  was  it  that  he  could  not  for- 
get ?  What  was  he  trying  to  fasten  forever  in  his 
memory  ? 


148  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

"  I  forget  nearly  everything  that  I  ought  to  keep 
in  mind,"  she  said,  scarcely  knowing  what  her 
words  were.  "  I  wish  I  had  a  good  memory." 

"  It  is  a  bad  wish.  If  I  could  forget  everything 
— the  whole  past,  the  whole  world,  everything  but 
the  present  moment  as  it  passes — I  could  be  happy. 
Some  one  has  said  that  the  past  is  a  cemetery,  a 
place  in  which  we  bury  dead  experiences.  Memory 
is  a  ghoul  ;  it  digs  up  nothing  but  corpses." 

He  was  walking  back  and  forth  again  with  his 
strong  chin  elevated,  his  muscular  shoulders  thrown 
back,  while  his  thin,  firm  lips  seemed  to  writhe 
around  his  words.  The  cords  in  his  neck  stood  out 
as  if  they  bore  a  great  strain. 

"  My  life  has  been  so  happy  and  so  uneventful," 
said  Pauline,  speaking  with  the  frankness  of  a  child, 
her  voice  betraying  the  fascination  that  his  words 
and  actions  were  exerting  over  her, i4  and  I  have  seen 
so  little  of  life  that  I  cannot — " 

"  Oh,  no,  you  cannot — "  he  interrupted — "  you 
cannot  understand.  Men's  lives  are  so  different 
from  yours,  so  beset,  so  borne  upon  by  evil,  so 
stirred  by  devilish  impulses." 

He  had  increased  his  pace  until  his  strides  had 
the  energy  of  some  powerful  excitement  and  his 
bronze  features  were  pinched  and  bloodless.  The 
stress  of  the  moment  added  a  strange,  indescrib- 
able beauty  to  his  face. 

For  some  moments  there  was  silence  between 
them  ;  meantime  they  could  hear  Mrs.  Vernon  giving 
her  callers  a  most  animated  account  of  the  street 
adventure  and  of  Colonel  Loring's  gallant  service. 


COLONEL   LOEING   AND   PAULINE.  149 

"  We  owe  our  lives  to  him,"  she  declared,  with 
emphasis.  "  And  he  risked  his  own  so  bravely  !" 

Without  realizing  her  own  sense  of  the  fascination 
that  was  holding  her  fast,  Pauline  sat  gazing  at  the 
man  as  he  strode  to  and  fro.  Her  face  was  sweetly 
flushed  and  her  eyes  shone  with  a  soft,  dreamy  ex- 
pression that  told  how  powerfully  her  sympathies 
had  been  stirred. 

Mrs.  Vernon  returned  as  soon  as  her  visitors  had 
gone. 

Colonel  Loring  confronted  her  hat  in  hand. 

"  I  shall  not  see  you  again  before  you  hear  of  fight- 
ing," he  said,  indicating  that  he  was  about  to  go. 
He  stood  looking  back  and  forth  from  mother  to 
daughter  as  if  he  had  something  he  wished  to  say 
but  could  not. 

Mrs.  Vernon  extended  her  hand. 

"Our  prayers  will  attend  you,"  she  said,  with  a 
subdued  smile,  "  and  we  shall  hope  to  see  you  back 
very  soon,  safe  and  well." 

He  went  away  abruptly,  leaving  behind  him  an 
impression  that  never  in  the  least  faded  on  the  mem- 
ory of  the  two  imaginative  women 

Pauline  went  almost  immediately  to  her  room. 
She  wished  to  be  alone.  In  her  heart  a  feeling  of 
indescribable  unrest  was  blending  with  a  vague 
sense  of  tenderness,  pity,  longing  and  fear,  as  if 
some  evil  were  about  to  befall  some  one  she  loved. 
Loring's  face  was  before  her  inner  vision.  His 
expression  of  dark  brooding  and  hopelessness  had 
fastened  itself  upon  her  memory,  like  a  strange, 
haunting  picture,  and  his  voice,  with  its  peculiar 


150  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

restrained  coldness  and  its  undertone  of  passionate 
despair,  seemed  to  echo  mysteriously  through  every 
cell  of  her  consciousness.  She  leaned  back  in  a 
white-cushioned  chair  and  clasped  her  hands  above 
her  head. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

COLONEL    LORING    MAKES    HIMSELF     FELT. 

Although  the  possibility  of  New  Orleans  being 
attacked  by  a  British  force  had  been  for  a  month  or 
two  the  chief  topic  of  conversation  in  all  the  homes 
and  in  every  salle  and  caf&  in  the  city,  nobody  was 
•prepared  to  receive  the  news  when  at  last  the  fleet 
was  reported  off  the  islands  that  rim  the  southern 
confine  of  Mississippi  Sound.  A  panic  seized  the 
people ;  and,  as  for  the  army,  there  was  lone  to 
speak  of. 

General  Jackson  made  haste  to  occupy  the  city 
with  such  forces  as  he  could  readily  pull  together, 
and  began  at  once  to  prepare  for  a  vigorous,  if 
apparently  hopeless,  defense.  The  first  difficulty  that 
presented  itself  to  the  iron-hearted  Tennesseean  was 
that  of  securing  the  confidence  and  co-operation  of  a 
class  of  men  who  in  a  large  degree  controlled  both 
New  Orleans  and  Louisiana.  He  found  that  a  deep- 
seated  prejudice  already  existed  against  him  in 
official  circles,  and  that  a  clash  of  authority  was 
likely  to  come  immediately.  Governor  Clai borne 


COLONEL   LOSING   MAKES    HIMSELF   FELT.         151 

had  many  enemies  in  the  State,  and  as  soon  as  he 
became  a  stanch  supporter  of  Jackson's  policy, 
which  was  a  strictly  military  and  not  a  little 
despotic  one,  they  began  to  attack  both  the  general 
and  the  governor  from  a  hundred  directions  with 
the  most  insidious  abuse. 

Although  the  masses  were  loyal  to  the  United 
States,  the  loyalty  was  a  provincial  one.  The 
Creoles  especially  regarded  anything  like  national 
interference  with  the  local  affairs  of  Louisiana  with 
but  little  favor,  and  at  first  they  did  not  admire  the 
rough  and  imperious  general,  whose  manners  and 
language  were  foreign  to  their  taste,  and  whose 
imperious  disposition  would  brook  no  interference, 
even  in  the  way  of  suggestion,  with  his  quickly 
formed  plans. 

Jackson  attached  Lieutenant  Ballanche  to  his 
staff  as  soon  as  he  arrived  in  New  Orleans.  This 
was  considered  an  insult  by  some  influential  persons, 
who  desired  to  have  Colonel  Loring  occupy  that 
position,  and  who  had  made  a  special  suggestion  to 
that  effect,  fortified  by  the  statement  that  Loring 
knew  the  whole  country  as  a  sailor-pilot  knows  his 
chart,  and  was,  besides,  an  officer  of  varied  and  suc- 
cessful experience  in  the  service.  Mr.  Vernon,  too, 
had  added  the  weight  of  his  name  and  recommenda- 
tion, which  had  heretofore  been  almost  all-powerful 
in  Colonel  Loring's  behalf. 

As  for  the  colonel  himself,  he  returned  to  New 
Orleans  from  no  one  knew  exactly  where,  just  in 
time  to  be  informed  of  General  Jackson's  peremp- 
tory refusal  while  the  words  were  scarcely  cold. 


152  THE   KINQ   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

"  I  do  not  need  more  staff-officers  or  more  officers 
of  any  kind,"  was  the  bluff  statement  made  by  the 
already  over-worked  commander.  "  I  need  fight- 
ing men  who  have  guns  and  will  shoot  with  them 
whenever  a  red-coat  gets  in  sight.  Let  every  man 
forget  office  and  think  of  his  country  for  a  while. 
If  Colonel  Loring  desires  to  fight  for  New  Orleans, 
let  him  report  to  me  at  once  with  a  gun." 

Ernest  Faval,  a  politician  of  some  note,  and  Mr. 
Vernon  met ,  soon  after  this,  in  a  restaurant  not  far 
from  Jackson's  headquarters,  on  Royal  Street, 
where  they  discussed  the  matter  in  a  characteristic 
way  over  a  bottle  of  Burgundy.  It  must  be 
recorded  that  they  cursed  and  swore  like  pirates, 
meantime  coupling  General  Jackson's  name  with 
a  good  deal  that  was  by  no  means  flattering  to  it. 

The  restaurant  was  one  of  the  best  in  the  city, 
and  situated,  as  already  stated,  only  a  few  doors 
distant  from  the  house  in  which  the  commanding 
officer  had  established  his  headquarters.  Indeed, 
Faval  and  Mr.  Vernon  were  fresh  from  the  exas- 
perating interview  already  mentioned.  They  were, 
perhaps,  pleasurably  surprised  when  on  the  moment 
Loring  chanced  to  drop  in  and  join  them  at  the 
table. 

"You  are  ordered,  sir,"  said  Faval,  in  a  mock 
military  manner,  "  to  put  on  the  uniform  of  a  pri- 
vate soldier  and  report  with  gun  and  accouter- 
ments,  to  General  Jackson." 

Loring  smiled  coldly,  tossed  off  a  glass  of  wine 
and,  resting  his  elbows  on  the  table,  turned  inquir- 


COLONEL   LORING   MAKES    HIMSELF   FELT.          153 

ing  glances  from  one  to  the  other  of  his  compan- 
ions. 

"  Jackson  flatly  refuses  to  appoint  you,"  said 
Mr.  Vernon,  setting  a  strong  tone  of  vexation  in 
his  words.  "  He  treated  us  as  if  we  had  been 
two  old  women." 

"  And  told  us,"  added  Faval,  "  that  everybody 
must  forget  office,  though  I  took  notice  that  he  did 
not  offer  to  resign  his  own  office." 

"  It  was  quite  unexpected,"  Mr.  Vernon  went  on. 
"  I  thought  he  would  appoint  you  without  a  word 
on  such  recommendations  as  we  were  able  to  offer  ; 
but  he  refused  in  terms  almost  unbearably  offensive, 
as  if  the  thought  set  him  in  a  rage.  He  was  digni- 
fied enough,  too  ;  but  I  saw  anger  in  his  eyes." 

Loring  did  not  change  countenance,  or,  if  he  did, 
it  was  but  to  broaden  his  sardonic  smile. 

"  I  am  not  surprised,"  he  remarked,  breaking  a 
biscuit  with  the  most  indifferent  air;  "it  was  a 
fool's  errand  from  the  beginning.  Claiborne  knows 
more  than  you  imagine,  and  what  Claiborne  knows 
Jackson  knows." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  demanded  Mr.  Vernon, 
with  peremptory  suddenness.  His  eyes  shot  out 
almost  fierce  inquiry. 

Faval  gave  Loring  a  quick,  warning  glance  which 
the  latter  understood  at  once. 

Without  an  instant's  hesitation  and  emitting  not 
a  ray  of  expression  to  hint  his  swift  change  of  men- 
tal attitude,  Colonel  Loring  said  : 

"  What  I  mean  is  that  Claiborne  knows  very  well 
that  you  and  Faval  distrust  him,  and,  of  course,  he 


154  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

is  making  good  time  in  poisoning  Jackson  against 
you,  as  I  should  do,  if  I  were  he,  under  all  the  cir- 
cumstances. I  know  something  of  General  Jackson  ; 
he  is  a  contemptible,  jealous  tyrant  !" 

Mr.  Vernon  laughed,  with  his  eyes  fixed  steadily 
on  those  of  Loring.  If  there  had  been  a  flash  of 
suspicion  it  came  and  went  like  the  flash  of  a  firefly. 

44  It's  a  high-handed  beginning,  to  say  the  least," 
growled  Faval,  "  and  for  my  part  I  don't  relish  it  ; 
though,  for  that  matter,  I  have  a  poor  way  of  help- 
ing myself." 

"  General  Jackson  probably  thinks  he  can  get 
along  without  Louisianaians  in  defending  Louisi- 
ana," said  Mr.  Vernon,  with  a  mechanical  show  of 
lightness.  "  Ta  !  He  will  soon  find  out  his  mis- 
take, I  hope." 

"  He  takes  Lieutenant  Ballanche  instead  of  you," 
Faval  remarked  turning  to  Loring.  "  The  boy 
seems  to  be  cheek  by  jowl  with  him  and  Claiborne. 
I  suppose  that  old  Sezannes  and  his  money  bags  are 
the  power  behind  the  throne." 

"  What  interest  has  Sezannes  in  the  affair  ?" 
inquired  Mr.  Vernon,  lifting  his  big,  shaggy  head 
with  a  motion  at  once  swift  and  heavy. 

"  Ballanche  is  to  be  his  son-in-law,  I  understand." 

"  Ta  !     Love  rules  war,  too,  eh  ?" 

"  Perhaps — when  love  controls  money." 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence,  and  then  Mr. 
Vernon,  leaning  back  in  his  chair  and  stroking  his 
tumbled  beard,  added  ; 

"  It  strikes  me,  in  spite  of  myself,  that  General 


COLONEL   LORING   MAKES   HIMSELF   FELT.         155 

Jackson  is  just  the  man  for  the  place  he  has  taken 
with  such  aplomb" 

Fival  winced,  inwardly  if  not  outwardly.  There 
was  a  touch  of  resentment  in  his  tone  when  he 
said  : 

"  Oh,  he  will  make  us  all  bestir  ourselves.  He 
will  pull  the  strings  and,  like  puppets,  we'll  have 
to  hop  and  kick  as  if  we  liked  it.  War  brings 
strange  masters." 

"  He  has  already  been  to  every  probable  point  of 
defense  all  around  the  city,"  continued  Mr.  Vernon, 
thoughtfully,  as  if  in  soliloquy  ;  "  and  the  steps  he 
is  taking  look  to  me  more  like  genuine  military 
work  than  anything  that  has  ever  been  done  in  this 
district." 

Faval,  whose  greatest  desire  had  been  to  have 
General  Wilkinson  returned  to  the  command  at  New 
Orleans,  cleared  his  throat  and  took  a  glass  of  brandy 
as  if  to  wash  something  down. 

"  He  has  the  prestige  of  recent  victories  to  make 
way  for  him,"  he  remarked,  evasively,  "  and  I  don't 
doubt  his  ability.  Perhaps  it  is  a  mistake,  however, 
for  even  General  Jackson  to  openly  insult  a  man 
like  you." 

Mr.  Vernon  arched  his  brows  and  made  a  gesture 
which  implied  absolute  disclaimer  of  everything 
personal  to  himself. 

"  I  shall  report  with  a  gun  when  the  enemy 
appears,"  he  said.  "  It  is  the  business  of  us  all  to 
fight  for  our  country." 

Loring  eyed  him  steadily  for  a  moment  and  then 
in  a  peculiar,  low  voice  exclaimed : 


156  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

' '  I  am  thirty-seven  years  old,  and  I  have  not  yet 
permitted  any  man  to  play  master  over  me.  I  shall 
hardly  begin  now." 

Then  he  twirled  a  wine-glass  carelessly  and 
added  : 

"  General  Jackson,  like  any  other  plebeian  who 
has  risen  a  trifle  above  his  present  associates,  fancies 
himself  a  Caesar.  It  would  be  good  for  him  to  have 
his  nose  pulled." 

"  I  should  not  care  to  do  that  piece  of  pulling," 
said  Faval,  dryly ;  "  the  nose  of  Andrew  Jackson 
has  the  pluck  of  the  devil  behind  it." 

Mr.  Vernon  laughed  ;  that  leonine,  growling 
chuckle  of  his  came  forth  with  a  suddenness  and 
force  that  fairly  jarred  the  table.  He  seemed  to  be 
reflecting  upon  something  that  amused  him  greatly. 
Presently  he  said : 

"  He  dismissed  us,  Faval,  as  if  he'd  been  a  dis- 
trict school-teacher  and  we  his  rather  stupid 
pupils  !" 

" '  If  Colonel  Loring  desires  to  fight  for  New  Or- 
leans,' "  said  Faval,  mocking  General  Jackson's 
manner,  " '  let  him  report  to  me  at  once  with  a 
gun.'  " 

Loring  poured  a  glass  of  wine  and  held  it  up 
before  him.  There  was  a  sardonic,  devil-may-care 
gleam  in  his  half -closed  eyes. 

"When  I  report  to  General  Jackson  he'll  be  a 
very  much  surprised  man,"  he  drawled,  with  that 
emphatic  slowness  which  sometimes  means  a  great 
deal.  "  My  report  will  make  his  head  swim." 

"Oh,  come,  now,"  said  Faval,  "don't  go  too  far 


COLONEL    LORING   MAKES    HIMSELF   FELT.          157 

with  your  resentment.  Doubtless  we  shall  all  have 
to  fight  under  the  tyrant.  We  can't  turn  our 
backs." 

At  this  moment  a  gaunt,  rough-looking,  stern- 
faced  man  strode  into  the  restaurant,  his  boots 
sounding  heavily  on  the  floor. 

"  There's  General  Jackson  now  !"  said  Mr.  Ver- 
non,  and  the  others  turned  to  see. 

The  deep-set  eyes  of  the  commander  fixed  them- 
selves quickly  on  Faval,  and  there  flashed  out  of 
them  a  perceptible  glow  of  displeasure,  as  if  some 
sudden  vexation  had  come  at  sight  of  him. 

The  three  arose  from  the  table.  Mr.  Vernon 
made  a  step  forward  and  saluted. 

With  a  curt  but  comprehensive  bow,  General 
Jackson  acknowledged  the  attention  of  the  group. 
His  eyes,  however,  did  not  turn  from  Faval,  though 
the  displeasure  vanished  from  them  evidently  by 
force  of  his  will. 

Colonel  Loring  stood  with  folded  arms  while  he 
gazed  steadily  into  General  Jackson's  eyes. 

Mr.  Vernon  extended  his  hand,  and  the  com- 
mander shook  it  perfunctorily. 

"  May  I  introduce  Colonel  Loring  of  whom  we 
were  speaking  this  morning  ?"  Mr.  Vernon  went  on, 
in  a  cordial  tone. 

"  Humph  !"  grunted  Jackson.  "  How  do  you  do, 
sir  ?" 

The  manner  and  the  words  were  more  careless 
and  indifferent  than  in  any  sense  malicious  or  pur- 
posely contemptuous  ;  but,  to  say  the  least,  the  ring 
of  downright  impoliteness  was  unmistakable.  It 


158  THE   KING   OF    HONEY    ISLAND. 

was  plain  enough  that  Colonel  Loring's  presence 
had  not  affected  the  commander  a  whit  more  pleas- 
antly than  had  the  suggestions  in  his  behalf  by 
Faval  and  Mr.  Vernon. 

Faval  made  a  step  half  around  the  corner  of  the 
table  as  he  saw  some  movement  on  the  part  of 
Loring. 

"  I  am  quite  sure,  General  Jackson,"  Mr.  Vernon 
was  going  on  to  say,  "  that  you  and  Colonel  Loring 
will  find  if  pleasant  to — " 

The  thought  in  his  mind  vanished  on  the  instant, 
and  he  stopped  midway  of  the  sentence  ;  but  it  was 
too  late  to  interpose  himself,  although  he  tried  with 
great  promptness  and  decision. 

What  followed  was,  perhaps,  the  most  astounding 
incident  in  all  the  turbulent  and  checkered  expe- 
riences of  Andrew  Jackson. 

Loring  made  a  quick  step  forward,  reached  forth 
his  right  hand  and,  grasping  the  commander's  nose 
between  his  thumb  and  forefinger,  tweaked  it  and 
wrung  it  savagely. 

"  Take  that  !"  he  sneered,  and  then  slapped  the 
astonished  man's  cheek.  "  I  will  report  to  you  with 
a  gun  when  I  see  fit,  you  conceited  ruffian  !" 

While  he  was  speaking,  Loring  had  passed  briskly 
along,  and  in  less  than  five  seconds  he  was  out  of 
the  room.  Indeed,  General  Jackson,  quick  and 
decided  as  he  always  was  in  an  emergency,  had  not 
recovered  from  his  consternation  before  his  assailant 
was  quite  gone.  Faval,  who  had  a  way,  as  most 
unscrupulous  politicians  have,  of  making  fair 
weather  for  himself  just  at  the  most  critical  moment, 


COLONEL   LOKING   MAKES    HIMSELF   FELT.         159 

came  to  the  commander's  defense,  or  rather  to  his 
aid,  with  a  pistol  which  he  snatched  forth  and  fired 
toward  Loring  a  little  too  late  to  hit  him  ;  the  bul- 
let creased  the  door-post. 

Jackson  wheeled  and  pursued  the  retreating  man. 
But  what  was  the  use  ?  He  was  gone.  The  irate 
commander  immediately  gave  orders  for  Loring's 
arrest  ;  but  he  was  not  to  be  found  so  easily. 

Jackson,  if  he  suspected  that  Mr.  Vernon  and 
Faval  secretly  enjoyed  his  discomfiture,  did  not 
betray  it.  The  matter  was  hushed  up  in  short 
order,  and  not  till  many  days  afterward  did  the 
rumor  go  out  in  New  Orleans  that  "  Old  Hickory  " 
had  had  his  nose  pulled  and  his  cheek  slapped 
without  being  able  to  fitly  resent  it.  Doubtless  the 
pressure,  sudden  and  apparently  irresistible,  of  the 
military  situation  forced  Jackson  to  cast  behind  him, 
for  the  time  at  least,  all  personal  considerations  and 
turn  his  whole  attention  to  preparing  the  defense  of 
New  Orleans.  At  all  events,  while  Mr.  Vernon  and 
Ernest  Faval  were  yet  with  him,  endeavoring  to 
quiet  him,  Lieutenant  Ballanche  came  in  great  haste 
to  bear  him  startling  news  from  down  the  river. 
The  British  were  coasting  along  the  marshes  and 
feeling  their  way  toward  the  city,  or  trying  to  get 
possession  of  Pontchartrain.  As  yet,  nothing  cer- 
tain could  be  known  of  their  numbers  or  equip- 
ments, saving  that  they  appeared  to  be  strong,  well 
supplied  and  confident.  There  were  great  difficul- 
ties in  the  way  of  watching  their  movements,  and  so 
far  it  was  doubtful  what  were  their  real  intentions 
as  to  the  point  of  attack. 


160  THE    KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

General  Jackson  received  the  young  lieutenant 
respectfully,  even  cordially,  and  after  a  few  words 
with  him  aside,  took  his  arm,  and  bowing  to  Faval 
and  Mr.  Vernon,  walked  away  with  him  towards 
headquarters. 

Faval,  in  his  Creole  volatility,  could  restrain  his 
indignation  no  longer.  He  clenched  his  hands  and 
swore  ;  but  Mr.  Vernon  was  quite  calm  and  appar- 
ently not  in  the  least  in  sympathy  with  his  compan- 
ion's bitter  criticism  of  the  commander's  personal 
treatment  of  them. 

On  the  evening  of  this  same  day,  Colonel  Loring 
further  distinguished  himself  by  appearing  suddenly 
in  the  de  Sezannes  box  at  the  leading  theatre  of  the 
city  and  throttling  Lieutenant  Ballanche,  who 
at  the  time  was  engaged  in  conversation  with 
Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes  and  her  mother.  The 
onslaught  was  so  precipitate  and  so  quickly  done 
with  that  the  perpetrator  was  gone  before  any 
general  understanding  of  the  startling  affair  was  had 
by  the  audience.  Ballanche  was  seized  by  the 
throat  in  a  grip  of  iron,  lifted  bodily  and  dashed 
down  stunned  and  almost  lifeless  at  the  feet  of 
Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes. 

The  play  going  forward  on  the  stage  was  not  half 
so  strikingly  dramatic  as  this  spectacular  perform- 
ance in  real  life,  and,  although  the  people  of  New 
Orleans  were  well  used  to  scenes  of  violence,  those 
who  witnessed  it  were  horrified  by  the  peculiar 
atrocity  it  exhibited.  Loring's  two  muscular  hands 
closed  about  the  young  man's  neck  with  frightful 


COLONEL   LORING   MAKES    HIMSELF   FELT.          161 

force,  and  his  cold,  long",  narrow  eyes  flickered  bale- 
fully  under  his  straight,  dark  brows. 

Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes  and  her  mother 
screamed  ;  the  old  man's  face  grew  livid  with  fright 
as  he  flung-  up  his  fat  hands  and  sank  back,  help- 
less, in  his  seat. 

At  this  distance  it  is  difficult  to  understand  a  state 
of  society  like  that  in  New  Orleans  at  the  time  of 
which  we  write  ;  but  the  temper  of  the  people  may 
be  suggested  by  the  fact  that,  while  the  city  lay 
apparently  open  to  an  alien  and  presumably  reck- 
less enemy  whose  fleet  and  troops  were  preparing 
for  capture  and  booty,  the  leaders  of  social  life  and 
the  chief  military  officers,  Jackson  excepted,  were 
at  the  theatre  enjoying  a  light  play.  Moreover,  the 
strange  incident  just  recorded  did  not  much  incon- 
venience either  players  or  audience  after  the  first 
thrill  of  excitement  passed  by.  It  was  a  momentary 
wonder,  nothing  more. 

Mr.  Vernon  and  his  wife  and  daughter  were  in  a 
box  almost  opposite  the  one  occupied  by  the  de 
Sezannes,  and  it  chanced  that  Fairfax  was  with 
them  at  the  moment  when  Loring  appeared. 

Pauline  did  not  see  the  daring  and  brutal  act  ; 
but  when  she  turned  in  the  direction  indicated  by 
her  father's  sudden,  excited  stare,  Loring  was  stand- 
ing there  facing  the  stage.  He  was  erect  and  rigid 
with  a  passion  not  otherwise  observable,  while  Bal- 
lanche  lay  crumpled  and  still  at  Mademoiselle  de 
Sezannes'  feet.  Something  in  the  man's  calm, 
mysterious  face  sent  through  her  a  thrill  of  inde- 
scribable sympathy.  As  he  turned  almost  instantly 


162  THE   KING   OF    HONEY    ISLAND. 

to  retreat  from  the  auditorium,  his  eyes  met  hers 
with  a  quick  movement  of  recognition,  and  he 
smiled  with  a  peculiar,  subdued  gleam  in  his  dark 
face. 

She  clutched  her  mother's  arm,  and  her  cheeks 
and  lips  turned  pale  as  death.  She  felt  rather  than 
saw  the  flash  of  excitement  which  passed  over  the 
faces  of  the  audience  all  turned  upon  the  tall  form 
now  passing  rapidly  along  the  aisle  that  led  to  the 
main  entrance. 

Nobody  attempted  to  stop  Loring  ;  even  the 
policeman  at  the  door  either  did  not  understand 
what  had  happened  or  feared  him  ;  for  they  stood 
aside  when  he  approached  and  let  him  pass  un- 
touched. 

Mr.  Vernon  sat  motionless  during  the  scene. 

"  What  is  it  ?  What  has  happened  ?"  demanded 
his  wife ,  as  soon  as  she  could  command  her  voice. 
"  Has  there  been  a  fight  ?  Is  Lieutenant  Ballanche 
hurt  ?  Who  did  it  ?  Was  it  Colonel  Loring  ?" 

With  the  assistance  of  the  excited  M.  de  Sezan- 
nes,  Lieutenant  Ballanche  was  slowly  rising.  Evi- 
dently he  was  confused  and  unable  to  realize  what 
had  happened.  Instinctively,  however,  he  righted 
his  disturbed  collar  and  pulled  himself  together 
with  a  show  of  dignity  and  coolness  which  won  the 
admiration  of  the  onlookers. 

On  this  very  evening  a  courier  brought  the  news 
to  General  Jackson  that  the  British  forces  were 
approaching  the  river  from  Lake  Borgne  by  way 
of  Bayou  Bienvenu.  Lieutenant  Ballanche  had 
not  yet  fully  recovered  from  his  bewilderment, 
when  an  officer  came  to  hand  him  an  order  from 


COLOSTEL    LORINU   MAKES   HIMSELF   FELT.          163 

the  commander  to  report  immediately  at  head- 
quarters. 

The  rumor  that  the  city  was  on  the  point  of 
being  occupied  by  the  enemy  went,  somehow,  afloat 
through  the  theatre.  This  completed  the  distrac- 
tion of  the  audience.  People  began  to  go,  at  first 
by  individuals  or  family  groups,  then,  as  the  excite- 
ment increased,  there  was  a  wild  rush  and  a  tumult 
of  hysterical  voices.  They  poured  into  the  street 
with  the  cry  : 

"  The  English  !  The  English  !  The  city  is  to  be 
plundered  and  burnt  !" 

Mr.  Vernon  and  Fairfax,  along  with  a  respectable 
minority  of  the  audience,  kept  cool  and  quietly 
remained  in  their  seats  ;  but  the  look  that  came 
into  Mr.  Vernon's  face  when  he  heard  the  shout  and 
for  a  moment  felt  that  the  British  army  was  enter- 
ing the  city,  told  how  terrible  the  announcement 
was  to  him. 

"  Come,"  he  said  to  Fairfax,  "  we  must  get  the 
ladies  to  a  place  of  safety." 

"  Be  calm,  dear,"  he  added,  laying  hold  on  his 
wife's  arm. 

Pauline  was  already  clinging  tightly  to  him,  but 
her  thoughts  were  not  on  the  coming  of  the  Eng- 
lish soldiery.  Somehow  she  was  impressed  with  the 
feeling  that  Colonel  Loring  had,  as  if  by  a  touch  of 
magic,  caused  all  this  excitement  and  tumult. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

MR.    VERNON    AND    COLONEL   LORING. 

It  is  best  for  the  reader  to  keep  all  the  time  well 
in  mind,  as  he  follows  the  thread  of  this  story,  the 
historical  peculiarities  that  blend  with  the  romance 
affecting  the  lives  of  the  people  in  whom  we  are 
interested.  The  growth  of  Louisiana  from  a  colony 
of  reckless  military  adventurers  up  to  the  stature  of 
a  great  State  has  been  a  singular  instance  of  evolu- 
tion. Iberville  and  Bienville  planted  the  seed  of  a 
strange  race  on  the  gulf  coast,  and  the  civilization 
(as  we  may  call  it,  for  want  of  a  better  name)  which 
developed  in  the  course  of  time  in  the  Latin  colony 
was  mongrel  in  every  sense.  French,  Spanish,  In- 
dian, negro,  all  blended.  The  lonely  knights  of  for- 
tune, in  the  earlier  days  of  the  occupation,  took 
them  wives  from  among  the  comely  squaws  of  the 
wild  tribes — girls  of  the  Chouacas,  the  Chickasavvs, 
the  Creeks  and  the  Cherokees — or  mated  themselves 
with  slave-women  from  Cuba  or  St.  Domingo. 
Cargoes  of  young  women  from  the  prisons  and  pub- 
lic pens  of  Paris — real  Manon  Lescauts,  but  unat- 
tended by  their  lovers — were  sent  over  to  be  the 
[164] 


MR.  VERNON   AND   COLONEL    LORING.  165 

wives  of  men  who  had  run  the  gamut  of  hardship 
and  of  hardening  experience.  Crozat  came  with  his 
contract  to  demoralize  and  Law  with  his  scheme  to 
ruin  the  colony.  Gold  fever,  the  fever  of  conquest, 
the  thirst  for  discovery,  the  longing-  for  lawless 
power  and  romantic  glory  possessed  the  grim,  fear- 
less, conscienceless  adventurers.  Now  the  French 
held  the  government  ;  now  the  Spaniards  took  it  ; 
again  the  French  ;  anon  the  Spaniards.  There  were 
slave  insurrections,  massacres  of  blacks  and  Indians, 
massacres  of  whites,  constant  war,  pillage,  robbery 
on  sea  and  on  land.  But  the  French  and  the  Span- 
iards were  not  alone.  Anglo-Americans  came  slip- 
ping into  the  colony,  and  most  of  these  were  rest- 
less, reckless,  hungry  fellows  on  the  lookout  for  a 
chance  of  fortune.  Wilkinson  came  and  Burr  came 
and  Claiborne  and  a  troop  of  their  kind,  all  of  them 
burning  for  power  and  the  glory  thereof,  money 
and  the  glitter  of  it.  Here,  too,  came  many  a  man, 
under  an  assumed  name,  to  throw  off  an  old  life  of 
dishonor  and  take  on  a  new  life  of  crime.  The 
Lafittes,  the  Murrels,  the  Rameaus  and  their  like 
drifted  in,  drawn  by  the  magnetism  of  organized 
lawlessness.  Indeed,  as  the  years  went  by,  the 
influence  of  Louisiana  over  desperate  men  reached 
to  the  farthest  parts  of  the  civilized  earth  and  drew 
to  the  colony  the  choicest  criminals  and  desperadoes 
— the  flower  of  the  race  of  outlaws  left  over  from 
the  scattered  descendants  of  buccaneers,  slave- 
snatchers  and  pirates. 

Men  who  had  been  political  schemers,  revolution- 
ists, plotters  of    treason,  assassination,  usurpation, 


166  THE   KING   OP    HONEY    ISLAND. 

were  self-exiled  to  Louisiana,  to  escape  the  rope, 
the  ax,  the  guillotine.  Deposed  nobles  and  princes 
came  here,  and,  in  sheer  desperation,  took  up  the 
life  of  the  gambler,  of  the  thief,  the  smuggler  or  the 
pirate. 

But  there  was  the  other  side  of  the  medal  ;  for 
opposed  to  the  dark  and  turbulent  majority  stood 
the  "saving  remnant,"  a  strong  minority  of  refined 
Christian  people,  whom  the  exigencies  of  life  had 
stranded  on  this  sweet,  slumberous,  flowery  shore, 
between  the  warm  gulf  stream  and  the  stately 
Mississippi.  Some  of  this  remnant  were  people 
who  had  fled  from  one  or  another  European  country 
for  what  would  have  been  glorious  patriotism  if 
successful,  although  when  colored  with  failure  it 
looked  like  "hideous  crime.  Wrecks  of  true  great- 
ness lay  strauded  along  Royal  Street  and  Bourbon 
and  Carondolette,  side  by  side  with  vulgar  flotsam 
and  jetsam  of  the  great  Sea  of  Chance.  True,  it 
was  often  hard  to  discern  the  rotten  from  the 
sound  ;  for  the  conscienceless,  red-handed  culprit  in 
exile  was  inclined  to  draw  about  him  much  the 
same  cloak  of  reserve  and  mysterious  dignity  worn 
by  the  expatriated  prince  or  general  whose  only 
offense  was  the  exalted  love  of  country. 

It  will  be  readily  seen  how  circumstances  tended 
to  rivet  the  armor  of  recklessness  and  lawlessness 
on  even  well-disposed  people  who  chanced  to  come 
within  the  circle  of  this  remote  and  isolated  com- 
munity. Where  there  is  not  the  wholesome  quaran- 
tine of  moral,  social  and  political  censorship,  desire 
swiftly  falls  to  the  level  of  the  average  and  crime 


MR.  VERNON  AND  COLONEL  LORING.      167 

becomes  epidemic.  It  is  only  when  backed  by  law 
rigidly  enforced  that  the  ethics  of  higher  civiliza- 
tion can  hold  a  hand  against  conscienceless  greed, 
passion  and  lust  of  power,  even  under  the  most 
favorable  surroundings. 

When  Gen.  Andrew  Jackson  came  to  New  Orleans, 
he  came  as  a  typical  Anglo-American,  as  contradis- 
tinguished from  the  Latin  Creole.  He  was  a  man  of 
iron,  rough,  resolute,  imperious,  even  impetuous,  with 
the  training  of  an  Indian  fighter  and  border  chief- 
tain, who  had  never  known  defeat.  But  here  in  the 
far-famed  city  of  romance,  here  in  the  warm,  languor- 
ous South,  he  found  to  his  surprise  that  these  pleas- 
ure-loving Creoles,  these  descendants  of  princes  and 
of  buccaneers,  these  vivacious,  picturesquely  hand- 
some men  with  the  soft  voices  and  the  courtly  man- 
ners, did  not  particularly  admire  and  certainly  did 
not  fear  him.  They  rather  looked  upon  him  as  an 
interloper  who  assumed  importance  with  the  air  of 
a  cornichon.  The  up-country  men  were  not  in  good 
repute  there,  anyway.  Burr  and  Wilkinson  and 
Claiborne  and  a  whole  clan  of  lesser  fellows  had 
given  these  Creoles  a  great  deal  of  trouble  while 
preparing  the  way  to  lift  them  into  the  great  Ameri- 
can Union,  and  now  Jackson  was  looked  upon  as  the 
arch  interloper.  But  not  a  few  of  the  inhabitants  of 
New  Orleans  who  called  themselves  French  were 
in  reality  English,  Irish,  German,  Scotch  or  Polish 
refugees  ;  and  at  this  particular  juncture,  when  the 
British  army  was  about  to  assault  the  gates  of  the 
city,  there  were  those  among  them  who  were  glad 
to  have  the  adamant  of  Jackson's  will  and  the  pres- 


168  THE  KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

tige  of  his  courage  and  generalship  thrust  between 
them  and  the  coming  foe.  One  of  these  was  Mr. 
Vernon.  To  him  the  thought  of  an  English  com- 
mander getting  control  of  New  Orleans  was  the 
vision  of  absolute  ruin.  Not  only  would  it  be  the 
end  of  all  his  wealth  and  influence,  but  there  would 
swiftly  follow  a  terrible  visitation  of  so-called  jus- 
tice upon  his  head.  But  for  this  he  might  have 
been  indifferent,  as  were  many  of  the  population,  or 
he  might  have  preferred  British  success  to  the 
domination  of  men  like  Jackson  and  Claiborne. 

He  left  the  theatre  on  the  night  of  the  alarm  with 
a  great  burden  of  trouble  oppressing  him.  Fairfax 
had  observed  before  this  that  Colonel  Loring 
seemed  to  exert  a  singular  influence  over  Mr. 
Vernon,  or  rather,  it  looked  as  if  Mr.  Vernon  had 
some  deep  interest  in  the  welfare  of  that  dark, 
saturnine  man  who  was,  as  he  still  believed,  Pierre 
Rameau,  the  robber.  Both  Mrs.  Vernon  and  Paul- 
ine had  noticed  this  remarkable  intimacy  and  had 
more  than  once  wondered  together  regarding  it. 
On  a  certain  occasion,  Pauline  had  accidentally 
overheard  her  father,  when  conferring  alone  with 
Loring,  address  him  with  impatience  and  speak  as 
though  chiding  him  for  some  fault. 

"  By  these  rash  acts,"  Mr.  Vernon  was  saying  to 
him,  on  the  morning  following  the  scenes  recorded 
in  our  last  chapter,  "  you  have  made  it  probably 
impossible  for  you  to  stay  in  this  country." 

They  were  sitting  facing  each  other  in  the 
library  ;  Loring  had  come  into  the  house  by  a  side 
entrance  from  a  private  alley. 


MR.  VEKNON  AND  COLONEL  LORING.      169 

"  Oh,  well,"  was  the  careless  answer,  "  if  I  can't 
stay  I  can  go.  There  is  Mexico  ;  I  can  return  to 
my  mines." 

Mr.  Vernon  gazed  steadily  at  him  with  eyes  that 
burned  half  wistfully,  half  in  anger. 

"  But,"  he  presently  said,  "  it  is  time  for  you  to 
quit  this  roving  life  ;  get  yourself  under  control, 
and  make  the  most  of  your  talents.  You  are  still 
young,  just  coming  into  the  prime  of  life." 

"  I  know — I've  been  thinking  of  it." 

"  But  what  does  thinking  amount  to  if  you  keep 
on  ?  No  man  ever  did  acts  more  absolutely  unjusti- 
fiable or  most  desperately  foolish  than — " 

"  Oh,  certainly,  there's  no  use  of  telling  me  that ; 
but  I  couldn't  help  it.  The  only  wonder  is  that 
I  didn't  kill  them  both  ;  I  usually  do." 

Loring  spoke  with  an  indescribable  expression  ;  it 
was  if  he  felt  no  special  interest  in  what  he  was 
saying — as  if  it  were  hollow  mockery  for  him  to 
speak  at  all.  His  eyes,  his  lips,  the  lines  of  his  face 
gave  forth  a  hard,  hopeless,  unfeeling  light  which 
seemed  to  come  out  of  a  physical  rather  than  a 
mental  dilemma. 

"  I  saw  no  excuse  whatever  for  your  treatment  of 
Ballanche,"  said  Mr.  Vernon.  "  It  looked  like  a 
piece  of  wanton  viciousness." 

The  old  man's  face  had  grown  as  gray  as  his 
beard,  and  the  wrinkles  deepened  strangely. 

Loring  sat  upright,  not  rigidly,  but  with  a  certain 
animal  elasticity  of  limb  and  body  which  suggested 
a  surplus  of  vital  force.  He  made  no  response  in 


170  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

words,  and  appeared  to  throw  off  with  some  super- 
ficial effort  the  whole  burden  of  the  subject. 

"  Of  course,  it  will  be  impossible  for  you  to  join 
Jackson  now,"  Mr.  Vernon  added,  after  a  long 
silence. 

"  I  shall  probably  go  to  the  other  side,"  said  Lor- 
ing,  with  a  smile. 

"  The  other  side  !" 

"  Why  not  ?     It's  my  best  way  to  make  it  even." 

"  But,  in  honor,  you  cannot  do  that." 

"  Humph  !" 

"  Moreover  you  know  that  for  the  English  to  take 
New  Orleans  would  be  ruin  to  me." 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  I  know,"  Loring  said. 

"  And  you — " 

"You  might  not  fare  so  badly.  The  English 
commander  has  offered  fine  terms  to  Lafitte,  and — " 

"  Ta  !  I  know.  But  even  Lafitte  will  not  accept. 
He  has  reported  to  Claiborne." 

"  Reported  to  Claiborne  !" 

"  Yes,"  Vernon  affirmed. 

Loring  turned  his  eyes  toward  the  ceiling  with  a 
slow,  thoughtful  motion,  as  if  revolving  a  new  per- 
plexity. 

"  Who  told  you  this  ?"  he  presently  demanded. 

"  Vasseur." 

"  Vasseur  !" 

"  Yes,  he  is  here.  He  acted  as  go-between  in  the 
matter.  He  brought  Lafitte's  message  to  the 
governor." 

"  And  how  came  Vasseur  here  ?" 

"  Ta !   I  hadn't  told  you  about  his  being  robbed  ?" 


MR.  VEENON  AND  COLONEL  LORING.      171 

"No." 

"  Pierre  Rameau  and  his  gang  robbed  him  of  all 
his  money  and  took  his  jewels." 

Loring  laughed  reflectively. 

"  Poor  little  nigger  !"  he  said.  "  That  went  hard 
with  him,  I  know." 

"  Yes.  But  he'll  have  his  revenge.  He  is  laying 
his  plans  well.  Rameau  is  in  the  city,  he  says,  and 
the  whole  fraternity  of  freemen  of  color  is  sworn  to 
kill  him.  They  are  drawing  their  lines  close  around 
him." 

Loring  threw  up  his  head,  and  his  eyes  became  as 
two  long,  gleaming  slits,  while  the  angles  of  his 
jaws  protruded  like  a  cat's. 

"  But  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  It  is  time  to 
act,"  Mr.  Vernon  inquired. 

"  Not  much  of  anything,  probably — report  to 
Jackson  with  a  gun,  muzzle  foremost,  maybe." 

He  arose  as  if  to  go,  but  stood  awhile  twirling 
his  hat  and  looking  straight  into  the  old  man's  eyes. 
A  touch  of  something  like  tenderness — such  a 
gleam  as  you  see  in  a  dog's  eyes  when  he  gazes  at 
his  master — came  into  his  impenetrable  face,  when, 
at  last,  he  put  forth  his  hand. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  said. 

Mr.  Vernon  clutched  the  hand  and  wrung  it,  but 
said  nothing. 

As  Loring  went  forth  from  the  house,  he  met 
Vasseur  coming  in. 

The  men  glared  at  each  other.  Vasseur  showed 
both  terror  and  surprise,  and  was  evidently  glad 
that  Loring  was  in  the  humor  to  pass  him  by. 


172  THE   KDfG   OF    HONEY    ISLAND. 

The  latter  did  not  swerve  a  hair's  breadth  from 
his  course,  and  the  little  mulatto  had  to  shy  aside 
quickly  to  avoid  being  trampled  under  foot. 

"Is  Pierre  Rameau  your  friend?"  cried  Vassenr, 
in  French,  as  soon  as  he  came  into  Mr.  Vernon's 
presence,  his  voice  husky  and  rasping. 

"  Pierre  Rameau  !  What  do  you  mean,  you  little 
scamp  ?" 

"  Did  you  not  see  him  ?  He  came  out  of  here  this 
moment  !  I  met  him  at  the  gate  !" 

"  No  ?" 

"  But  yes,  yes,  this  minute — Pierre  Rameau  !" 

Vasseur  was  trembling  violently. 

On  the  moment,  there  was  a  sudden  whirl  of 
thoughts  in  Mr.  Vernon's  brain.  Could  it  be  ? 
He  grabbed  his  beard  with  one  hand  and,  with  the 
other  pressed  hard  upon  his  forehead,  stood  motion- 
less, every  feature  straining  and  every  limb  rigid. 
He  was  reflecting  with  the  power  and  intensity  of  a 
sudden  conviction. 

After  a  little  while,  however,  he  mastered  him- 
self and  demanded  Vasseur's  business. 

u  I  have  not  any  business,"  faltered  the  little  man. 
"  I  saw  Pierre  Rameau  come  in  here  and — " 

"  You  are  a  liar  !" 

Mr.  Vernon  held  him  by  the  throat  and  made  him 
stand  on  tiptoe. 

"  You  call  my — my  friend  Pierre  Rameau  again, 
and  I'll  kill  you,  you  black  dog  !" 

It  was  the  first  time  in  many  years  that  he  had 
given  way  to  a  rush  of  anger. 


MR.  VERNON  AND  COLONEL  LORINO.      173 

Vasseur,  unable  to  stand  when  released,  sank 
into  a  chair. 

"  Forgive  me,  Vasseur,"  said  Mr.  Vernon  in  the 
next  breath.  "  I  did  not  mean  to  hurt  you.  I  was 
angry.  That  man  was  not  Pierre  Rameau.  He 
was  Colonel  Loring." 

"  Then  you  did  not  see  the  man  I  speak  of," 
insisted  Vasseur,  doggedly.  "  I  met  Pierre  Rameau 
coming  out  as  I  came  in.  I  had  tracked  him — 
followed  him  here.  I  saw  him  come  in,  and  I 
waited  long  for  him  to  come  out.  I — " 

Mr.  Vernon  interrupted  him  with  an  impatient 
wave  of  the  hand. 

"  There  is  some  mistake  !" 

Vasseur's  cunning  would  not  let  him  be  deceived, 
but  he  felt  some  dangerous  mystery  hovering  close 
to  him  and  did  not  care  to  take  further  risk  in 
penetrating  it.  A  mind  like  his  is  quick,  nimble, 
shifty.  It  must  be  in  order  to  give  it  a  fair  chance. 
Moreover,  it  cuts  straight  through  some  difficulties 
that  would  be  baffling  to  a  higher  intellect.  Just 
now  he  was  living  for  but  one  object,  and  whatever 
did  not  bear  upon  his  purpose  was  of  no  interest  to 
him  ;  but,  in  spite  of  this,  there  was  something  in  Mr. 
Vernon's  attitude  that  aroused  strange  and  obscure 
doubts,  suspicions,  dreads  in  his  mind,  while 
at  the  same  time  he  saw  that  there  was  a  bond  of 
sympathy  and  interest  uniting  Mr.  Vernon  and 
Pierre  Rameau.  He  suspected,  although  the  sus- 
picion scarcely  took  full  shape  just  then,  that  the 
two  men  had  been  connected,  as  he  and  Rameau 
had,  in  some  wild  transactions,  and  were  still  neces- 


174  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

sary  to  each  other,  or  would  be  at  the  crisis  now  so 
near.  Indeed,  Vasseur  knew  more  of  Mr.  Vernon's 
past  than  the  latter  would  have  believed — more 
than  it  would  have  been  safe  for  the  little  fellow  to 
acknowledge. 

When  Vasseur  had  taken  his  leave,  Mr.  Vernon 
walked  the  floor,  to  and  fro,  his  hands  locked 
behind  him,  his  heavy  head  and  shoulders  droop- 
ing and  his  eyes  bent  upon  the  carpet.  He  looked 
ten  years  older  than  he  had  looked  three  days 
before.  His  lips  now  and  again  moved  silently, 
and  the  muscles  of  his  neck  and  face  twitched  ner- 
vously. 

Presently  he  took  his  hat  and  his  great-coat,  for 
a  drizzling  rain  was  falling,  and  went  out.  He  felt 
that  he  must  see  Loring  once  more  before  he  left 
the  city.  To  this  end  he  bent  his  steps  toward  the 
club-room  of  the  Chats-Huants  which  was  over  the 
back  part  of  a  low  restaurant  near  the  river. 

Chats-Huants  [screech-owls]  was  the  name  of  a 
mysterious  organization  which  fell  to  pieces  when, 
some  time  after  the  War  of  1812,  the  robbers  of 
Honey  Island  were  routed  and  their  power  des- 
troyed. 

What  seems  most  strange  to  one  who  gains  access 
to  the  records  is  the  fact  that  the  Chats-Huants, 
although  their  proceedings  were  vailed,  did  not  pre- 
tend to  evade  the  authorities  of  New  Orleans.  It 
was  well  known  that  they  were  in  league  with 
smugglers,  so-called  "  privateers "  and  negro- 
stealers  ;  but  it  was  understood  as  well  that  they 
were  "  operated  "  outside  of  Louisiana,  or,  in  other 


MR.  VERNON   AND   COLONEL   LORING.  175 

words,  that  they  were  "importers"  of  unlawful 
wares,  and  that  all  of  their  gains  went  to  swell  the 
wealth  of  the  State  and  the  city. 

Mr.  Vernon  felt  sure  that,  if  Loring  had  been 
deceiving  him,  and  had  been  all  this  time  operating 
with  the  Honey  Island  outlaws  instead  of  being  in 
Mexico — if  Colonel  Loring  and  Pierre  Rameau  were 
indeed  identical  as  both  Fairfax  and  Vasseur  had 
declared — then  the  room  of  the  Chats-Huants  would 
be  the  place  in  which  to  look  for  him. 

On  the  way,  as  the  rain  softly  fell  over  his 
slouched  hat  and  high-collared  topcoat,  Mr.  Vernon 
kept  repeating  the  name,  "  Pierre  Rameau,"  "  Pierre 
Rameau,"  not  aloud,  not  even  by  lip-movement,  but 
inwardly  ;  and  it  rang  and  echoed  in  his  conscious- 
ness, as  a  lonely  voice  sometimes  wanders  back  and 
forth  and  around  in  a  wild  mountain  hollow.  He 
felt  that  he  was  going  to  solve  within  the  next  half- 
hour  a  question  involving  one  of  those  climaxes  of 
experience  from  which  no  period  of  life  is  exempt — 
experiences  that  shock  the  very  centers  of  strength, 
and  affect  the  deepest  sources  of  feeling.  The  Mas- 
ter of  Destinies  rarely  uses  stage  effects  in  thrusting 
us  into  these  extremes  ;  but,  yet,  it  is  not  often  that 
we  are  in  the  least  prepared  for  any  of  them.  A 
stroke  of  the  drum,  a  glare  of  red-light,  or  the  sud- 
den blare  of  horns  at  just  the  moment  of  disclosure, 
might  relieve  rather  than  aggravate  the  effect. 

The  streets  were  slimy,  the  gutters  ran  full  of 
muddy  water,  and  a  wind  from  the  east  had  an 
edge  of  ice,  albeit  the  roses  were  abloom  along  the 
walls.  Mr.  Vernon  met  few  people  ;  he  was  not 


176  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

aware  of  meeting  any,  until  a  hand  was  laid  on  his 
arm,  and  a  well-remembered  voice  said  : 

'•  May  I  have  a  word  with  you  ?  Do  you  not 
know  me  ?" 

He  stopped  short  and  faced  the  speaker.  It  was 
almost  in  front  of  the  entrance  to  the  grimy  build- 
ing in  which  the  Chats-  Huants  had  their  meeting- 
place.  Not  far  away  on  one  hand  rolled  the  great 
yellow  river  with  some  vessels  at  anchor  ;  on  the 
other  hand  the  uneven  houses  zigzagged  along, 
dripping  and  unsightly.  Two  or  three  reckless- 
looking  fellows  passed  by  and  entered  the  restaur- 
ant. The  Chats-Huants  were  meeting. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A  SCENE  ON  A  WOODLAND  STAGE. 

The  reader  will  recollect  the  heavy  rain  and  the 
hurricane  that  came  on  immediately  after  the  shoot- 
ing of  Burns  by  Pierre  Rameau.  But  for  that  cool 
deluge  of  water,  the  old  man  would  have  bled  to 
death,  notwithstanding  the  comparative  slightness 
of  the  wound,  which,  owing  to  the  bullet's  striking 
a  large  old  silver  watch  and  glancing  thence  along  a 
rib,  was  but  a  jagged  rip  in  the  flesh  across  the  left 
slope  of  the  chest.  As  it  was,  the  rain  stanched  the 
bleeding,  and  Burns  regained  consciousness  some 
time  during  the  following  night. 

His  Scotch  vitality  was  not  yet  exhausted.  He 
raised  himself  to  a  sitting  posture  ;  but  the  effort 
reminded  him  of  his  hurt  and  the  blood  broke  forth 
afresh,  while  a  dull  pain  griped  his  breast.  A  roar- 
ing sound  came  into  his  head  as  he  sank  back  again 
and  relapsed  into  insensibility.  It  was  but  a  swoon, 
however,  followed  presently  by  a  gradual  recovery, 
during  which  his  mind  recalled,  in  a  panoramic 
way,  the  whole  of  his  long  and  fruitless  struggle  in 
search  of  Margaret.  All  the  terrible  route  from 
Scotland,  zigzagging  over  almost  half  the  earth,  lay 


178  THE   KING   OF    HONEY    ISLAND. 

under  his  eyes  as  if  mapped  out  in  the  glare  of  a 
calcium  light.  He  realized  how  very  old  he  was, 
and  the  nature  of  his  wound  he  well  knew,  having 
thrust  his  fingers  into  the  gaping  rent.  Life  shriv- 
eled under  his  gaze  to  the  dimensions  of  a  scorched 
leaf,  and  he  saw  his  thousands  of  unanswered 
prayers  lying  like  dead  insects  thereon.  Some  of 
the  tense  strings  of  his  faith  were  snapping  under 
this  strain.  Numbly,  blindly,  he  groped  about  in 
the  darkness,  the  soaked  earth  under  him,  the  drip- 
ping, wind-stirred  boughs  overhead.  His  long, 
gray  hair  fell  across  his  drawn  and  sunken  face,  and 
his  tumbled  beard  was  separated  into  clammy 
wisps.  He  thought  he  was  walking,  but  he  was 
only  wallowing  on  the  ground,  reaching  out  his 
hands  and  feet. 

There  is  a  great  reserve  in  the  Scotch  physique 
as  there  is  in  the  Scotch  character.  Mr.  Burns  was 
an  extreme  example,  else  how  could  he  have  lain 
there  on  the  wet  soil  of  the  woods  for  three  days 
and  nights  without  so  much  as  a  sip  of  water  and 
with  nothing  to  stay  the  bleeding  of  his  wound  ? 
He  was  but  half  conscious  most  of  the  time,  and  yet 
he  heard  a  panther  screaming  all  through  one  night, 
and  once  a  wolf  barked  and  howled  close  by. 
There  was  nothing  in  these  sounds  to  frighten  him  ; 
they  came  to  him  as  in  a  dream,  appealing  to  no 
particular  sense,  touching  no  particular  chord  of 
consciousness,  simply  echoing  through  him.  Slowly 
he  sank  away,  weaker  and  weaker,  down,  down  into 
darkness.  Every  thought  faded  out  but  one — the 


A   SCENE   ON   A   WOODLAND    STAGE. 

thought  of  failure — the  thought  that  he  was  dying 
without  hope. 

On  the  third  day,  in  the  afternoon,  some  great 
black  birds,  evil-looking,  with  bare,  congested  heads 
and  hungry  eyes,  came  sailing  low  round  and  round 
above  him.  He  saw  them,  and  thought :  "  They 
will  eat  me  as  soon  as  I  am  dead  !"  But  there  was 
no  horror  connected  with  the  vision,  which  went 
farther  and  displayed  his  scattered  and  clean-picked 
bones.  What  could  it  matter  to  him,  old,  defeated, 
abandoned,  dying,  if  vultures  began  their  work  at 
once  ?  Could  their  beaks  add  one  pang  to  his 
torture  ? 

With  singular  minuteness,  for  his  leisure  was 
ample,  he  reviewed  his  religious  life,  seeking  for 
some  justification  of  the  act  of  Divine  Providence 
in  thus  casting  him  aside  like  a  bit  of  old  rubbish 
after  all  this  wearying  and  fruitless  effort — after  all 
his  trust  and  prayer. 

And  little  Margaret — what  of  her?  Beautiful, 
young,  pure,  with  every  bud  of  tender  promise  just 
showing  the  pink — why  should  she  have  been  made 
the  plaything  of  an  enormous  wrong,  the  helpless 
victim  of  an  atrocious  fate  ?  He  saw  her  as  she  was 
when  she  left  him,  fair,  bright,  loving,  the  idol  of 
his  widowed  heart,  and  he  followed  her,  step  by 
step,  through  the  cruel  descent,  until  she  lay  in  her 
coffin,  murdered  by  that  man. 

By  some  mysterious  cerebral  action,  he  was  able 
to  note  the  correlation  of  his  own  experience  with 
the  girl's,  and  to  fix,  as  by  a  flash,  the  meeting  of  his 


180  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

prayers  with  the  successive  downward  rushes  of  her 
miserable  career. 

At  every  point  where  he  sought  her  with  most 
confidence  and  besought  heaven  with  greatest  faith, 
there  she  had  met  calamity  or  taken  some  desperate 
step  in  infamy.  And  whose  was  the  fault  ?  Surely 
she  had  not  been  born  with  the  taint  of  evil  in  her 
blood.  True,  her  father  had  been  a  reckless  man 
in  a  way — convivial,  given  to  gambling  and  to  other 
vices  ;  but  he  had  kept  his  honor,  as  men  sometimes 
reckon  it,  in  a  fair  condition.  Her  mother  was  a 
sweet,  patient  little  doll.  Both  parents  died  young. 

And  Kirk  MacCollough  !  The  name  rang  through 
the  old  man's  fevered  brain,  and  the  tall,  dark  out- 
law stalked  across  his  vision  like  an  actor  across  the 
stage  of  melodrama.  What  health,  what  strength, 
what  immunity  from  the  physical  effects  of  moral 
recklessness  !  And  what  defiance  of  heaven  and 
hell !  In  the  pursuit  of  thig  man,  Burns  had  wasted 
himself,  his  fortune,  his  career,  his  prayers,  his  life, 
while  not  a  drop  of  desire  had  been  lost  by  the  out- 
law. It  was  bitter  food  of  reflection  for  the  aged 
preacher  as  he  lay  on  the  ground,  his  withered 
limbs  outstretched  and  the  weakness  of  death  in  his 
nerves.  Slowly  his  mind  worked  its  way  down  to 
that  last  scene  and  began  to  take  up  its  details  one 
by  one,  analyzing  them  with  merciless  exactness. 
Meantime,  by  that  curious  power  of  the  brain  which 
enables  it  when  abnormally  stimulated  to  follow  two 
lines  of  thought  at  once,  he  was  reviewing  Kirk  Mac- 
Collough's  origin  and  accounting  for  his  career  by 
referring  all  his  darker  characteristics  to  inheritance 


A   SCENE    ON   A   WOODLAND    STAGE.  181 

from  his  father,  Thomas  MacCollough,  who  com- 
mitted a  great  political  crime  and  was  transported 
therefor  in  the  first  prime  of  his  manhood  while 
Kirk  was  yet  a  mere  boy.  Burns  had  never  seen 
Thomas  MacCollough,  nor  had  he  known  much  of 
the  family  before  Kirk  began  to  pay  attention  to 
Margaret  ;  but  since  then  he  had  found  out  the  his- 
tory which  now  seemed  to  account  fitly  for  the  young 
man's  unparalleled  course  of  evil.  From  father  to 
son  had  descended  the  curse  of  outlawry. 

But  it  was  natural  that  Burns'  mind,  even  in  the  last 
extremity  of  despair,  should  turn  with  all  its  Scotch 
stubbornness  and  tenacity  to  take  a  religious  survey, 
so  to  call  it,  of  the  situation.  Perhaps  it  would  be 
better  to  say  that  his  thoughts  were  not  driven  at 
once,  even  by  direst  calamity,  out  of  the  groove  in 
which  they  had  been  running  since  first  he  began  to 
be  a  preacher.  It  had  been  his  rule  to  measure 
everything  by  the  standard  disclosed  to  him  in  the 
Bible.  "  Thus  saith  the  Word  "  had  been  his  hobby, 
his  guide,  his  comfort.  Never  during  his  long, 
absorbing  chase  after  his  child  and  her  atrocious 
lover,  had  he  forgotten  the  Sabbath  or  failed  to  keep 
it  holy ;  never  had  he  neglected  the  simple  forms 
of  worship  and  of  prayer  to  which  his  austere  con- 
science and  the  obligations  of  his  church  bound  him. 
He  had  lived  unspotted,  and  now  death  hovered 
over  him  in  that  lonely  place,  with  none  to  lift  his 
head,  speak  a  word  of  comfort  to  him  or  to  touch 
his  lips  with  water.  Upon  his  soul  the  bitterness  of 
all  this  settled,  as  his  brain  drew  it  in  and  ana- 
lyzed it. 


182  THE    KINO   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  revulsion,  and  it  was  as  if 
the  poles  of  his  nature  had  been  reversed  on  the 
instant.  From  some  source  he  gathered  strength  to 
lift  his  head  and  shoulders  ;  then,  leaning  on  one 
arm,  he  gazed  wildly  around.  There  was  a  terrible 
look  in  his  face.  He  almost  bounded  to  his  feet 
and  stood  swaying  and  trembling,  his  long  legs  far 
apart  and  one  hand  raised  far  above  his  disheveled 
head.  A  dying  tiger  might  have  glared  as  did  he, 
and  it  was  with  a  wild  beast's  voice  that  he  cried 
aloud  : 

"  I  will  not  die — I  will  not  die — I  cannot  die.  Kirk 
MacCollough,  while  you  live  !" 

It  was  a  grand  theatre  in  which  to  make  such  a 
speech.  The  dusky  trees  and  the  lurking  wild 
things  were  fitting  audience.  The  realism  of  the 
acting  was  superhuman,  and  it  was  also  super- 
humanly  romantic.  The  stage  accessories  were  in 
perfect  harmony  with  it.  Loneliness,  grimness, 
solemnity  brooded  there,  and  the  wide  silence  was 
fitting  applause.  Two  of  the  evil  birds  took  wing 
with  loud  flapping  and  sailed  away  from  the  dead 
bough  on  which  they  had  been  sitting  so  patiently. 
Burns  was  indirectly  aware  of  them,  as  he  rolled 
his  bloodshot  eyes  and  shook  his  head  till  the  tan- 
gled hair  fell  over  his  forehead  and  temples. 

His  strength  was  but  spasmodic.  The  next 
moment  he  tumbled  down  motionless. 

Slowly  the  sun  passed  on  to  the  western  slope 
of  the  sky.  The  hideous  vultures  returned  to 
circle  round  and  round,  lower  and  lower  ;  but  they 
did  not  dare  make  the  attack.  They  might  have 


A   SCENE   ON   A   WOODLAND   STAGE.  183 

done  it  soon,  however,  had  they  been  left  to  their 
will. 

Once  more  the  old  man  roused  himself  and  strug- 
gled to  his  feet.  The  pallor  of  death  flared  out  of 
his  face,  the  frenzy  of  death  glittered  in  his  eyes. 
There  were  fragments  of  dead  leaves  and  clots  of 
earth  in  his  hair  and  beard.  Again  he  flung  his 
hand  on  high  and  stood  wavering  and  trembling, 
while  his  voice  broke  forth  with  awful  sonorous- 
ness : 

"  Vengeance  !  '  Vengeance  is  mine,  and  I  will 
repay  !'  " 

This  time  the  theatre  held  one  human  auditor, 
who  stopped  short  in  his  walk  and  gazed  with  wide- 
open  eyes  at  the  towering  actor  in  that  wild  scene. 
At  first  Burns  looked  almost  twice  his  real  stature, 
so  dilated  was  the  expression  of  his  form  as  seen 
against  the  dusky  spaces  and  gloomy  trunks  of  the 
wood. 

"  Wall,  take  my  hat  for  a  soap-kittle  !"  exclaimed 
the  observer,  resting  the  butt  of  his  long  rifle  on 
his  foot. 

"  W'y,  w'at's  the  matter,  parson  ?  W'at  in  all 
creation  air  ye  a-doin'  yer  ?" 

Burns  started  at  the  sound  of  the  voice,  and  half- 
turned  to  look.  The  effort  lost  him  his  balance,  and 
down  he  fell  again,  his  arm  still  outstretched. 

"  Hello  !  Hello  !"  shouted  the  man,  running  for- 
ward as  rapidly  as  a  crooked  leg  would  permit,  "  air 
ye  ailin',  parson  ?" 

He  half  recoiled  at  the  sight  of  the  blood  on 
Burns's  clothes,  and  his  rough  face  showed  surprise 


184  THE   KINO   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

and  quick  sympathy.  He  had  been  accustomed  to 
open-air  tragedies,  had,  indeed,  been  a  star  per- 
former in  not  a  few  ;  but  here  was  a  mystery  as 
well  as  a  catastrophe.  For  lack  of  other  vent  to 
relieve  his  feelings  withal  he  began  to  swear  dis- 
approvingly, intimating  through  his  oaths  that  it 
•would  please  him  to  hew  limb  from  limb  the  man 
who  hurt  Parsons  Burns. 

"  Parson,  parson  !"  he  exclaimed,  stooping  over 
him  and  touching  his  shoulder.  "  Wat's  the  matter 
of  ye,  parson  ?" 

Then,  as  he  received  no  answer,  he  straightened 
himself  up,  leaned  on  his  gun  and  scratched  his  head 
with  an  air  of  contemplative  confusion.  Just  then, 
a  horse  gave  forth  one  of  those  casual  snorts  char- 
acteristic of  the  genus.  It  was  the  animal  that  Burns 
had  ridden.  Not  far  away  it  was  browsing  dolefulty, 
with  a  melancholy  twist  in  its  cadaverous  neck  and 
switching  its  tail  this  way  and  that  more  by  force  of 
habit  than  in  response  to  the  attack  of  one  or  two 
thriftless  flies  which  were  content  to  worry  a  skin 
too  tough  for  their  tiny  spears. 

"  Yer,  yer,  parson  !  Wat's  this  mean  ?"  he  went 
on,  blustering  a  trifle  and  shaking  the  old  man's 
shoulder.  "  Can't  ye  speak  to  a  feller  ?  Air  ye  bad 
hurt  ?" 

Burns  writhed  about,  turning  his  grimy  face  full 
upon  his  interrogator.  The  stare  he  gave  the  man 
fairly  chilled  him. 

"  Pierre  Rameau — that's  your  name,  eh  ?"  he 
gurgled  harshly.  "  Pierre  Rameau,  I  will  kill  you 
— ki-i-ill  you  !" 


A    SCENE   ON   A   WOODLAND    STAGE.  185 

He  tried  with  desperate  energy  to  gain  his  feet, 
but  he  faltered  and  fell. 

"  Kill  !  Kill  !"  he  moaned.  "  I  cannot— I  will  not 
die  till  I  have  killed  you  !" 

The  incomparable  strangeness  of  his  voice  and 
the  awful  expression  of  his  countenance  cannot  be 
indicated  ;  nor  can  mere  words  give  any  adequate 
impression  of  the  man,  old,  withered,  ill-clad,  grov- 
eling in  the  wet,  sandy  soil,  soaked  in  blood  and 
panting  forth  intolerable  passion.  He  looked 
scarcely  human — more  like  a  beast  of  prey, wounded 
to  death,  tearing  madly,  blindly  at  whatever  he 
could  feel.  His  words  soon  became  indistinguish- 
able and  ran  together  into  a  harsh,  guttural  growl. 

Dick  Beckett  (doubtless  the  reader  has  recognized 
him)  was  at  first  too  much  astonished  to  be  at  him- 
self. As  soon  as  he  began  to  pull  his  wits  together, 
however,  the  whole  truth  became  more  than  a  sus- 
picion in  his  mind. 

"  Who  hurt  ye,  Daddy  Burns  ?"  he  demanded 
in  his  natural  tone  of  voice.  "  War  it  that  air  devil, 
Pierre  Rameau  ?" 

Perhaps  hearing  Burns  repeat  the  great  robber's 
name  had  suggested  the  thought  to  Dick  Beckett, 
or  it  may  have  risen  out  of  the  prevalent  habit  of  lay- 
ing everything  cruel  and  otherwise  unaccountable 
at  the  feet  of  Rameau. 

Dick  knelt  down  beside  the  old  man,  and,  still 
holding  his  gun  in  one  hand,  felt  of  the  wound, 
after  pulling  away  the  rent  clothes  from  around  it. 
In  vain  he  tried  to  arouse  him. 


186  TH3   KING   OF    HONEY    ISLAND. 

"  Well,— well— tut,  tut,  tut !"  he  spluttered. 

Rising  again  to  his  feet  and  standing  with  most 
of  his  weight  on  his  crooked  leg,  he  contemplated 
the  situation,  while  with  the  fingers  of  his  left  hand 
he  worried  the  frowzy  red  hair  that  hung  under  the 
brim  of  his  battered  cap. 

"  Poor  ole  daddy  !"  he  exclaimed,  after  a  while. 
"  He  do  seem  to  be  'bout  done  for  !" 

Dick  possessed  executive  ability  of  a  sort,  and 
when  he  got  his  faculties  rightly  put  together  there 
was  no  such  a  thing  as  his  giving  up  to  circum- 
stances contrary  to  his  wish.  He  examined  Burns 
and  found  that  he  was  not  yet  dying.  The  next 
thing  was  to  save  him.  This  looked  like  a  forlorn 
hope,  but  he  would  try  it  at  all  events.  So  he 
caught  the  lingering  horse  and  with  its  aid  bore 
Burns  through  the  wood  to  his  cabin. 

Here  I  insert  a  short  paragraph  from  the  "  Honey 
Island  Records."  The  reader  will  feel,  in  reading 
it,  a  waft  from  the  old  reckless  life  of  the  frontier  : 

"  Dick  Beckett,"  it  goes  on  to  say,  "  found  the 
preacher  in  a  sad  condition  when  he  reached  home 
with  him,  which  it  was  after  dark  at  the  time,  and 
he  struck  a  light.  The  wound  was  a  tear  in  the 
side  dug  by  a  pistol  bullet  that  had  been  amazingly 
flattened  on  a  silver  watch  afore  doing  it.  '  I  will 
save  him  !'  said  Dick  Beckett,  who  was  a  good 
nurse  besides  a  distracting  fiddler  :  and,  belike,  he 
had  original  medicine — strange  roots  and  such. 
Some  do  say  he  did  possess  a  root  of  the  man-plant 
which  he  salved  the  hurt  with.  Sure  enough,  any- 


A   SCENE    ON    A    WOODLAND   STAGE.  187 

way,  he  cured  him  betimes.  What  they  do  say, 
also,  is  that  Dick  Beckett  did  fiddle  and  play  pro- 
fane musick  unto  the  preacher  what  time  he  con- 
valesced, even  such  tunes  as  '  Sugar  in  the  Gourd  ' 
and  '  Riding  on  a  Rail,'  not  to  make  special  mention 
of  '  There's  Whiskey  in  my  heel.'  No  doubt,  how- 
ever, this  matters  not,  seeing  that  the  preacher 
survived  and  at  last  went  on  his  way." 

In  the  French  version  of  the  story  there  is  a  state- 
ment not  to  be  found  in  the  other  accounts. 

"  It  cannot  be  denied, "runs  this  Creole  document, 
which  appears  to  be  a  rough  translation  of  some 
lost  English  writing — "  It  cannot  be  denied  that 
Burns,  the  preacher,  did  swear  vengeance  on  Pierre 
Rameau,  the  robber  (forban  is  the  French  word 
used),  and  did  express  himself  in  language  dreadful 
in  its  nature.  Some  think  that  this  Dick  Beckett 
hath  fiddled  all  the  piety  and  tenderness  of  religion 
out  of  the  old  man's  soul,  for,  after  this,  he  is 
mightily  changed  in  his  temper  and  disposition,  and 
some  desperate  acts  are  set  down  to  his  credit." 

Dick  Beckett  himself,  in  his  extreme  old  age,  when 
his  mind  ran  mostly  on  things  long  since  done,  was 
sometimes  ready  to  talk  about  Burns  ;  but  even  the 
garrulity  of  nearly  a  century  of  years  did  not  over- 
come a  certain  tantalizing  discretion.  The  most 
that  he  would  tell  was  to  the  effect  that  Burns 
seemed  a  little  "onsettled  in  'is  upper  story  w'en  'e 
got  well." 

"  Yes,"  he  would    remark,   '  I  'member  how    'e 


188  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

looked  w'en  »e  tip  an*  lole  me  good-bye  an'  went  off 
to  s'arch  for  Pierre  Rameau.  'Twas  ob  a  Thurs- 
day mornin'  an'  'e  said  : 

" '  Farewell  Dick.  I  go  unto  Honey  Island  an 
woe  be  upon  that  infernal  darn  rascal  what  stole 
my  chile  !" 

Doubtless  this  seemed  to  the  aged  fiddler  the 
exact  language  of  Burns  ;  but  it  does  not  sound  like 
him.  If  we  cannot  wholly  believe  that  there  could 
have  been  a  change  so  sudden  and  so  radical  in  the 
character  of  one  who  had  been  for  so  many  years 
a  sincere  and  singularly  humble-minded  preacher, 
we  must,  at  least,  give  due  weight  to  the  evidence 
tending  to  prove  it. 

One  thing  is  pretty  conclusively  settled  :  Burns 
did  penetrate  to  the  innermost  fastnesses  of  Honey 
Island,  and,  not  finding  Pierre  Rameau  there,  made 
his  way,  by  what  route  is  not  known,  to  New 
Orleans,  where  for  some  time  he  attracted  little 
attention,  though  he  wandered  about  by  night  and 
by  day,  going  into  all  sorts  of  places,  his  eyes  full 
of  a  half-smoldering  fire  and  glancing  keenly  into 
the  face  of  every  person  he  met. 

He  had  no  money,  and  how  he  lived  has  never 
been  found  out,  though  after  a  time  he  met  Vasseur, 
who  thenceforward  took  such  care  of  him  as  circum- 
stances permitted. 

He  had  but  one  thought  and  that  thought  was 
Pierre  Rameau. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

IN    THE   RAIN. 

"  Do  you  know  me  ?" 

"  Ta  !     Yes,  how  do  you  do  ?" 

It  was  evident  that  Mr.  Vernon  was  trying  hard 
to  cast  off  surprise  and  appear  quite  at  ease  ;  but 
lately  he  had  been  finding  this  more  difficult  than 
he  was  willing  to  acknowledge.  His  mind  had  been 
disturbed,  and  one  burning  suspicion  was  falling 
deeper  and  deeper  into  his  heart. 

He  could  not  just  then  fairly  understand  why  to 
see  Burns  standing  before  him  should  startle  him 
so.  True,  the  old  man's  face  and  form  were  clothed 
upon  with  an  indescribable  suggestion  of  weird- 
ness  ;  but  to  a  man  like  Mr.  Vernon  this  could  not 
be  a  source  of  mental  disquiet ;  it  was  not  specially 
observed  on  the  moment. 

"  I  hope  that  you  and  your  family  have  been  well 
and  happy  since  the  time  of  your  great  kindness  to 
me,"  said  Burns,  offering  his  hand,  which  Mr.  Vernon 
felt  to  be  like  ice  when  he  touched  it. 

Not  the  chill  wind  nor  yet  the  almost  numbing 
rain  could  account  for  the  singular  shiver  and 

Li89] 


190  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

repulse  which  came  out  of  that  hand-clasp  into  Mr. 
Vernon's  blood.  It  was  like  touching  the  flesh  of 
a  corpse,  only  it  was  far  colder.  On  the  old  wan- 
derer's cheeks  burned  hectic  spots. 

"  Yes — yes,  we  are  all  very  well — yes,  very  well. 
I  am  glad  to  see  you  again,  sir.  The  ladies  will  be 
proud  to  have  you  come.  Why  haven't  you  been  to 
the  house  ?" 

"  I  have  been  often  but  could  not  get  in.  Your 
man  thinks  I'm  a  beggar." 

"  Ta  !     I'll  teach  him  better." 

Evidently,  the  presence  of  Burns,  while  not  exactly 
an  annoyance  to  Mr.  Vernon  was  by  no  means  a 
pleasure.  Aside  from  any  effect  produced  upon 
him  by  an  apparition  so  unexpected,  and  taking  no 
account  of  the  startling  expression  of  the  old  preach- 
er's strangely  emaciated  face  and  concentrated  gaze, 
there  was  something  inopportune,  out-of-place  and 
unwelcome  in  the  sudden  meeting.  We  have 
moments  when  any  index  to  our  past  is  unbear- 
able. Mr.  Vernon  was  constrained  ;  his  manner 
and  voice  were  unnatural. 

Burns  eyed  him  a  moment,  then  said  : 

"  No.  Don't  bother  with  it.  I  am  a  beggar,  a 
tramp,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  disturb  a  happy  family. 
What  I  went  is  easily  told." 

"  Speak  it,  my  dear  sir,  speak  it  ;  it  is  already 
yours." 

Mr.  Vernon  was  still  holding  that  clammy  hand 
and  looking  firmly  and  kindly,  albeit  with  a  sort  of 
artificial  expression,  into  Burns's  deep-sunken  and 
inflamed  eyes. 


IN   THE   RAIN.  191 

"  No,  that  is  a  polite  lie.  Wait  till  I  make  my 
desire  known,  then  see  if  you  can  be  so  generous." 

"  Ta  !  1  see  you  are  ill.  Come  in  and  have 
some  wine." 

"  I  drink  nothing  but  water.  I  am  not  ill.  I  am 
well  and  strong  and  shall  reach  my  goal  soon." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,  sir — very  glad,  indeed." 

Mr.  Vernon  wanted  to  shake  him  off  for  the  pres- 
ent and  go  into  the  club-room  of  the  Chats-Huants  ; 
he  wanted  to  see  Colonel  Loring  again  ;  but  Burns 
would  not  be  abandoned. 

"  I  am  close  on  the  track  of  Pierre  Rameau,"  he 
said,  "  and  I  want  your  help.  Turn  your  hand  for 
me  now,  and  I  have  him." 

Mr.  Vernon  stood  silent,  and  a  peculiar  shadow 
crept  over  his  face. 

"Ah,  I  see  you  are  quite  prompt,  quite  ready  !" 
exclaimed  Burns,  after  a  mere  moment.  The  irony 
was  merciless. 

<4  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?"  demanded  Mr.  Vernon. 
A  gray  film  of  passion  or  of  some  other  deep  feeling 
crept  over  his  cheeks  above  the  beard. 

"  Bah  !  Where  were  you  going  just  now  ?" 
demanded  Burns,  as  if  with  authority. 

"  Sir  !" 

"  1  can  tell  you.  You  were  going  upstairs,  in 
there,  to  the  room  of  the  Chats-Huants,  to  meet 
Pierre  Rameau,  the  robber." 

"Sir!" 

"  You  know  that  it  is  so." 

"  It  is  not  true — it  is — " 

"  Don't   be  angry.     Stop  and  think.    Stop  and 


192  THE   KING   OF    HONEY    ISLAND. 

turn  about.  I  like  you  ;  I  owe  my  life  to  you.  I 
would  save  yours  now.  Don't  go  in  there." 

Two  or  three  suspicious-looking  fellows  came 
near  and  acted  as  if  they  were  trying  to  overhear 
what  was  being  said.  Perhaps  they  thought  it  was 
a  quarrel  that  would  end  in  a  fight,  the  most  inter- 
esting thing  in  the  world  to  such  characters. 

Burns,  like  the  Ancient  Mariner,  was  holding  his 
auditor  with  his  glittering  eye.  The  wedding-guest 
was  not  more  enthralled  than  was  Mr.  Vernon,  albeit 
the  latter  turned  abruptly  and  would  hear  no  more 
for  the  moment.  He  could  not,  however,  tear  him- 
self loose  from  the  old  man,  who  followed  him  and 
stepped  again  in  front  of  him,  now  laying  his  hand 
on  his  top-coat's  lapel  and  thrusting  his  eager, 
cadaverous  lips  close  to  his  ear. 

"Come  aside  somewhere,  only  for  a  minute. 
Don't  stay  here — for  heaven's  sake,  don't  !"  he 
exclaimed,  in  a  shrill  whisper.  "  The  time  is  at 
hand  !  Vengeance  is  mine  !  Come  !  I  hear  them 
approaching." 

While  he  spoke,  he  was  fairly  forcing  Mr.  Vernon 
along,  leading  him  away  from  the  door  of  the 
restaurant. 

About  this  time,  a  young  man  rode  down  the 
street  at  a  swift  pace  and,  flinging  himself  from  the 
saddle  of  his  beautiful  horse,  ran  into  the  place, 
leaving  the  animal  standing  unhitched  and  unat- 
tened.  A  little  later  Colonel  Loring  came  out, 
mounted  and  rode  away. 

So  intent  was  Burns  in  his  effort  to  draw  Mr. 
Vernon  aside,  he  did  not  notice  this  incident.  Out 


IN   THE   EAIN.  193 

slipped  the  Chats- Huants,  one  by  one,  two  by  two, 
quickly,  silently,  scattering  and  disappearing  as  if 
by  magic. 

A  little  later,  a  company  of  mounted  soldiers 
swept  round  a  corner  and  deployed  in  front  of  the 
building.  Of  course,  they  were  too  late  to  make  the 
capture  they  had  intended,  and  when  they  leaped 
from  their  horses,  pistols  in  hand,  and  rushed  in,  they 
discovered  that  their  bird  had  flown. 

The  clatter  of  hoofs  as  they  came  up  attracted 
Burns's  attention.  He  let  go  his  hold  and  turned. 

"  In  there  !  In  there  !"  he  cried,  leaping  forward. 
"  Up  the  stairway  to  the  right !  Follow  me  !" 

He  led  the  way  with  incredible  nimbleness  for 
one  so  old  and  frail-looking.  A  long,  keen  knife 
flashed  in  his  hand. 

The  rush  was  over  in  a  minute.  Doors  were 
dashed  open  or  kicked  off  their  hinges,  and  the 
rooms  above  and  below  were  searched  without  cere- 
mony. 

Mr.  Vernon  stood  looking  on,  apparently  quite 
calm.  He  had  seen  Colonel  Loring  go,  and  now  he 
comprehended  the  whole  affair.  It  had  been  well 
planned  and  well  executed,  notwithstanding  the 
outcome.  But  for  the  faithful  spy  at  Jackson's  head- 
quarters and  the  swift  courier  sent  in  the  very  nick 
of  time,  Loring  would  have  been  taken. 

"  I  said  all  the  time  that  the  old  fool  was  crazy," 
growled  the  officer  who  had  led  the  dash.  "  The 
whole  story  was  absurd." 

"Yes,    sir,"     replied    the    subaltern    whom    he 


194  THE   KINO   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

addressed,  "  it  was  indeed  a  fool's  errand.  Storm- 
ing a  junk-shop  and  led  by  a  ragamuffin  !" 

They  were  coming  out  of  the  building,  disap- 
pointed and  vexed,  ashamed  of  the  part  they  had 
been  forced  to  play  in  a  scene  so  like  a  farce. 

"  You'd  better  go  home  and  soak  your  head,  old 
man  !"  added  one  of  them,  turning  with  brutal  sever- 
ity and  addressing  Burns.  "  I  s'pose  you've  beer, 
drunk  for  a  month." 

The  old  man  paid  no  attention  to  the  remark, 
did  not  even  glance  at  the  speaker,  but  walked  forth 
into  the  street  and  away,  with  his  chin  on  his  breast 
and  his  knife  in  his  hand. 

He  overtook  Mr.  Vernon,  or  rather  they  came 
together  when  the  latter  emerged  from  a  side  street 
a  block  or  two  distant  from  the  scene  just  witnessed. 
The  rain  was  still  slanting  along  the  wind  in  a  fine 
drizzle  ;  Burns  looked  pinched  and  blue.  Without 
a  word,  Mr.  Vernon  drew  off  his  top-coat  and  hung 
it  over  the  old  man's  shoulders. 

"  Put  away  your  knife,"  he  said.  "  You  will  need 
it." 

Burns  obeyed  mechanically,  hiding  it  somewhere 
in  his  bosom.  Evidently  he  was  but  vaguely  aware 
of  what  he  was  doing.  His  vision  was  introverted, 
his  feelings  were  numbed. 

"You  will  come  home  with  me  now,"  Mr.  Vernon 
added,  taking  him  gently  by  the  arm.  "  We  will 
have  dinner." 

Burns  looked  up  quickly  with  a  glance  of  suspicion 
or,  perhaps,  of  deeper  meaning. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  I  will  not." 


IN   THE    RAIN.  195 

Further  words  on  the  subject  were  shut  off  by 
the  peremptory  tone  and  manner.  They  walked 
on  a  little  way  in  silence,  hearing  the  surface- 
water  bubble  in  the  gutter  beside  the  trottoir.  Few 
people  were  in  the  streets ;  but  the  gambling- 
rooms  were  full,  the  coffee-houses  noisy. 

Suddenly  Mr.  Vernon  closed  his  grasp  more 
firmly  on  Burns's  arm  and,  looking  into  his  face 
said  with  the  force  of  a  command  : 

"  Tell  me,  is  Colonel  Loring  Pierre  Rameau  ?" 

Burns  started  at  the  mention  of  the  latter  name. 

"  You  know  Pierre  Rameau  ;  I  know  you  do,"  he 
answered,  slowly  drawing  out  his  words.  "  He 
calls  himself  Colonel  Loring  here  in  the  city ;  but 
you  know  that  he  is  Kirk  MacCollough,  son  of  Jane 
MacCollough,  whose  husband  was  Thomas  Mac- 
Collough, the  traitor,  who  was  banished  nearly 
forty  years  ago." 

There  was  a  horrible  leer  in  the  old  preacher's 
eyes.  It  was  the  same  glare  that  had  been  in  the 
eyes  of  the  vultures  when  they  sailed  low  over  him 
during  those  dreadful  days  in  the  woods.  Behind 
his  words  there  stretched  an  infinitude  of  signifi- 
cance ;  it  was  as  if  each  syllable  echoed  back  to 
some  far  date  and  stirred  up  long  buried  sentiments. 
Mr.  Vernon  stopped  short  in  the  street  and  held 
him  as  in  a  vise. 

"  What  are  you  saying  ?"  he  demanded,  hoarsely. 
"  What  do  you  know  about  Thomas  MacCollough 
and  Jane  MacCollough  ?  Who  are  you  ?" 

Burns  did  not  speak  forthwith. 

"Ta!     You    are    crazy!"     Mr.    Vernon    added, 


196  THE   KING   OF    HONEY    ISLAND. 

thrusting  him  away  with  such  force  that  he  almost 
fell  into  the  gutter.  But  there  was  no  anger  in  the 
act. 

"  Yes,  I  am  crazy,"  the  old  man  said,  when  he 
had  regained  his  equilibrium,  "  and  you  ought  to 
be." 

At  this  moment  came  a  curious  exchange  of 
glances  between  them.  It  was  like  a  quick 
acknowledgment  of  a  common  thought,  pang -bur- 
dened and  unwelcome  to  one,  a  matter  of  hopeless 
indifference  to  the  other. 

Mr.  Vernon  picked  up  the  top-coat,  which  had 
fallen  from  Burns's  shoulders,  and  replaced  it  with 
gentle  care. 

"  I  knew  Jane  MacCollough,"  he  said  ;  "  she  was 
Jane  Alexander  before  she  was  married." 

"  Yes." 

"  And  you  said  she  had  a  son  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  Kirk — Colonel  Loring — Pierre  Rameau. 
These  three  are  one." 

"You  know  this?" 

"  You  know  it." 

They  stood  there  in  the  rain  and  searching  wind, 
the  water  dripping  from  their  hat-brims  and  their 
gray  locks  tossing  about.  Mr.  Vernon  combed  his 
abundant  beard  with  his  fingers. 

Burns  came  closer  to  him. 

"  I  think  I  had  best  tell  you,"  he  said  ;  "  for,  after 
all,  you  ought  to  know." 

"  I  know  already,"  Mr.  Vernon  calmly  replied, 
"  all  that  you  can  tell  me,  and  more." 

"  No,  not  all.     Kirk  MacCollough's   last — no  not 


IN   THE   RAIN.  li>7 

exactly  last,  nor  yet  his  worst,  but  one  of  his  acts 
you  have  no  account  of.  I  will  tell  you." 

Then  the  old  man  described  his  meeting  with 
Pierre  Rameau  in  the  Pearl- River  country  and  the 
cold-blooded  event  of  it.  He  showed  no  senile 
garrulity  in  delivering  himself.  Indeed,  the  blunt 
thrust  of  his  sentences  gave  an  awful  realism  to  his 
story. 

"  I  felt  that  it  was  best  to  tell  you,"  he  added  at 
the  end,  with  something  like  a  suggestion  of  regret 
or  apology  for  the  infliction. 

"  Oh,  certainly  !"  said  Mr.  Vernon. 

The  coolness  of  this  remark,  not  far  removed 
from  sheer  indifference,  seemed  to  excite  Burns 
inordinately,  and,  as  if  in  retaliation,  he  began  at 
once  to  tell  what  Rameau  had  said  regarding  the 
fate  of  Margaret,  and  consciously  with  great  cun- 
ning or  unconsciously  with  supreme  feeling  he 
presented  the  absolute  dramatic  spirit  of  the  terrible 
deed. 

Mr.  Vernon  stood  in  an  attitude  of  stark  attention. 
The  story  was  quickly  told  with  few  gestures  and  in 
a  low  tone. 

"  But — but — "  Burns  hesitated  a  moment  as  he 
was  concluding,  gazing  fixedly  the  while — "  though 
you  saved  my  life,  though  I  would  all  but  die  for 
you  and  yours,  I  cannot  spare  him — I  cannot  spare 
him,  even  for  you  !" 

Mr.  Vernon  wrung  water  from  his  beard  and 
stood  silent.  The  rain  was  soaking  his  clothes,  but 
he  did  not  feel  it. 

A  little  later,  the   two   old   men  parted,  Biirns 


198  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

refusing  to  accompany  the  other  any  farther  or  to 
accept  any  aid  from  him.  Unconsciously,  however, 
he  wore  away  Mr.  Vernon's  comfortable  top-coat. 

At  Chateau  d'Or,  meantime,  Pauline  and  her 
mother  were  discussing  a  subject  which  mothers 
and  daughters  have  busied  themselves  with  since 
the  first  day  that  love  and  marriage  were  lifted  to  a 
true  sanctity  in  human  households.  Fairfax  had 
just  gone  away  ;  and  Pauline,  with  true  French  im- 
petuosity, an  inheritance  from  Madame  Vernon, 
ran  to  that  warm-hearted  woman  and  flung  herself 
into  her  arms.  The  act  interpreted  itself,  for  the 
mother  knew  every  movement  of  her  child  and  its 
meaning.  She  had  expected  this  and  was  glad  of 
it,  and  yet  she  felt  a  thrill  that  was  more  than  half 
a  pang  as  she  clasped  the  lithe,  quivering  form  and 
began  passionately  to  kiss  the  blooming  lips  and 
cheeks.  She  felt  hot  tears  dropping  from  the  girl's 
eyes. 

"  But  he  is  going  to  the  army  !"  Pauline  sobbed. 
"  Going  right  away  to  fight !" 

"  And  your  father,  too,  is  going,"  said  Mrs.  Ver- 
non, stroking  her  bright  hair,  soothingly.  "  We 
must  be  as  brave  as  they." 

In  the  midst  of  her  distress,  which  was  so  largely 
joy,  Pauline  felt  a  distinct  satisfaction  in  the  paral- 
lel implied  by  her  mother's  remark.  It  was  as  if 
she  had  said :  "  My  dearest  one,  too,  is  going  to 
join  the  army.  If  I  can  let  mine  go,  you  can  let 
yours  go.  We  are  quite  on  an  equality  in  the  mat- 
ter." The  comfort  in  this  leveling  and  blending 


IN   THE   RAIN.  199 

suggestion  may  have  been  remote  and  obscure  to  a 
degree  ;  but  it  was  nevertheless  unmistakable. 

"  But  they  will  be  killed  !  They  will  be  brought 
back  dead  !"  Pauline  continued,  putting  a  hand  on 
each  side  of  her  mother's  face  and  gazing  through 
her  tears. 

"  We'll  hope  not.  We'll  pray  for  their  safety,  my 
dear.  God  takes  care  of  us  all.  He  keeps  our 
beloved  ones  for  us." 

"  Our  beloved  ones  !"  The  phrase  was  like  a  sweet 
chime  in  Pauline's  ears. 

"But  why  must  war  come  just  now,  mamma, 
dear  ?  Just  now — just  now  when  we  are  so  happy  !" 

"  Men  must  fight,  you  know  ;  it  is  their  glory. 
And  we  poor  women  must  wait  and  pray." 

A  servant  announced  Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes, 
who  soon  appeared,  still  muffled  in  her  carriage- 
cloak,  with  a  touch  of  the  rain  on  her  clothes.  Her 
beauty  was  much  heightened  by  her  air  of  excite- 
ment. She  had  come  to  Pauline  for  comfort  in  her 
distress.  Lieutenant  Ballanche  had  been  sent  down 
the  river  in  command  of  a  scouting  party  detached 
by  order  of  General  Jackson. 

"  I  couldn't  stay  at  home  !"  she  exclaimed,  casting 
aside  her  cloak  and  rushing  impetuously  into  Paul- 
ine's embrace.  "  I  am  so  troubled,  so  nervous  ! 
Papa  says  that  the  enemy  will  be  in  the  city 
before  the  week  is  past." 

Pauline  pulled  her  down  into  her  lap  with  girlish 
tenderness  and  fondness,  soothing  herself  by  caress- 
ing her  friend. 

Mrs.  Vernon  took    Mademoiselle   de   Sezannes's 


200  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

hand  and  stroked  it.  The  three  were  drawn  close 
together  in  a  striking  group  near  the  center  of  the 
room  whose  windows  were  festooned  inside  with 
almost  priceless  tapestry  and  outside  with  blooming 
vines.  Despite  the  chill  of  the  December  air,  with 
its  searching  dampness,  the  perfume  of  roses  and 
violets  was  sweetly  prevalent  throughout  the  house. 

"  Why,  you  have  lost  the  set  of  your  ring  !"  Mrs. 
Vernon  exclaimed,  as  her  fingers  touched  the  little 
circle  of  gold  claws  that  had  held  a  large  diamond 
in  place. 

"  No  !" 

"  Yes.     See  !" 

Mademoiselle  looked  down  and  turned  pale. 

"  And  it  was  the  ring  he  gave  me — my — " 

"Your  engagement  ring  !" 

For  the  time  they  forgot  war  and  its  terrors  in 
their  consternation  over  a  lost  bauble  ;  but,  then, 
the  bauble  stood  for  so  much  !  They  sprang  to 
their  feet,  and  the  diamond  set  rolled,  flashing,  on 
the  carpet.  All  three  stooped  to  pick  it  up,  and  so 
pressed  and  crushed  themselves  together  in  beauti- 
ful disorder,  actually  laughing  and  ejaculating  gayly. 

"  Oh,  I  could  not — I  could  not  lose  this  !"  cried 
Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes. 

She  kissed  the  stone  and  fondled  it  against  her 
cheek. 

"  You  know  I  lost  the  large  ruby  out  of  my  fan  on 
the  night  of  your  party,"  she  went  on  to  say.  "  I'm 
having  bad  luck  with  my  jewels." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  lost  the  Caribbean 
ruby,  as  you  called  it  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Vernon. 


IN   THE   BAEff.  201 

"Yes,  the  buccaneer.  You  recollect,  Pauline, 
that  Mr.  Parker  admired  it  so  much  that  evening. 
I  was  nearly  heartbroken  when  I  found  that  it  was 
gone.  Though  I  would  rather  lose  a  hundred  like 
it  than  this  darling  set."  And  again  she  showered 
kisses  on  the  diamond. 

It  would  have  been  a  trifle  startling  to  the  ladies, 
could  they  have  been  informed  just  then  that 
Parker,  alias  John  A.  Murrell,  had  sold  the  ruby  in 
Memphis  and  made  merry  with  crapulous  friends  in 
expending  the  money  received  for  it. 

Mr.  Vernon  came  in  presently,  wet  and  chilled. 
He  went  directly  to  his  own  room  to  change  his 
clothes  and  be  rubbed  by  a  servant. 

When  he  appeared  again,  it  was  to  inform  his 
wife  and  his  daughter  that  they  were  to  be  sent  to 
the  plantation  to  remain  until  after  the  impending 
battle  had  been  fought.  Preparations  for  the  move 
would  be  made  immediately.  Lapin,  the  overseen 
had  been  notified,  and  would  come  early  on  the 
morrow  with  the  proper  vehicles  for  taking  such 
things  as  would  be  needed.  The  ladies  would  go  in 
the  family  carriage. 

So  sudden  an  announcement,  at  such  a  time, 
added  much  to  the  feeling  of  dread  and  to  the  con- 
fused apprehensions  with  which  Mrs.  Vernon  and 
Pauline  were  already  oppressed.  It  had  in  it  the 
terrible  reality  of  immediate  and  dire  urgency.  A 
whiff  of  battle-smoke  wafted  through  the  house 
could  not  have  been  more  startling. 

"  Oh,  if  I  could  go  with  you  !"  cried  Mademoiselle 
de  Sezannes.  "  It  will  be  awful  !" 


202  TEE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

"  But,  you  can  go  with  us,"  said  Mrs.  Vernon. 
"  Why  not  ?  There  is  room  in  the  carriage." 

"  My  dear  child,  yes,"  added  Mr.  Vernon,  with  a 
serious  smile.  "  It  would  be  so  good  of  you  to  go 
and  be  company  for  Pauline  and  Madame  Vernon." 

"  But,  papa  and — " 

"  Oh,  there's  not  such  hurry.  You  can  go  home 
and  confer  with  your  father.  It  will  be  safest  for 
you  to  be  with  my  family,  I  am  very  sure.  Tell 
your  father  that  I  advise  it  and  insist  upon  it  The 
city  will  be  no  place  for  young  girls  if  the  English 
defeat  Jackson  and  come  in." 

In  some  way,  through  a  medium  thought  at  the 
time  to  be  sufficiently  authentic,  the  story  had  come 
to  New  Orleans  that  the  British  officers  had  prom- 
ised their  men  the  freedom  of  conscienceless  con- 
querors, should  they  capture  the  city.  As  the 
rumors  of  their  approach  and  of  the  overwhelming 
numbers  they  could  oppose  to  the  little. handful  of 
Americans  were  coupled  with  a  report  of  such  dark 
significance,  the  invaders  were  regarded  as  savages 
worse  in  every  respect  than  the  red  men  who  had 
been  so  recently  conquered  by  Jackson.  A  thrill  of 
intolerable  apprehension  shot  through  the  heart  of 
the  wicked  city  ;  but  the  bedizened  dens  of  vice 
and  infamy  abated  not  one  line  or  point  of  their 
cupidity,  ceased  not  by  night  or  by  day  their  hideous 
carousals.  There  seemed  to  be  as  much  danger 
within  as  without,  in  the  event  of  such  disorder  as 
would  follow  the  defeat  of  Jackson.  Everybody 
was  aware  of  the  volcanic  evil  which  was  burning 
under  the  crust  of  life  all  around  in  those  teeming 


IN  THE   RAIN.  203 

places  where  the  refuse  of  the  whole  world  was 
packed. 

What  aggravated  the  danger  was  the  clash 
between  Jackson  and  this  very  class,  whose  leaders 
were,  in  fact,  the  chief  men  of  the  State.  The  iron- 
hearted  general,  however,  apparently  paid  not  the 
slightest  attention  to  any  particular  individuals  of 
the  would-be  obstructionists,  albeit  his  eye  saw 
everything  and  his  hand  was  heavy  when  it  fell. 
He  grasped  the  situation  more  intelligently  than 
did  Governor  Claiborne  or  any  of  his  associates,  and 
when  the  moment  came,  he  declared  martial  law 
and  took  charge  of  everything  with  a  suddenness 
and  vigor  that  were  irresistible.  Even  the  vilest  of 
the  forbans  and  cut-throats  were  touched  by  the 
magnetic  influence  of  his  indomitable  spirit  and 
courage.  Here  was  a  general  who  was  the  fit  leader 
of  desperate  men,  and  all  these  outlaws  were  noth- 
ing if  not  willing  fighters  and  scoffers  at  danger  and 
death. 

Mr.  Vernon  felt  the  doubtfulness  of  the  outcome, 
and,  moreover,  in  any  event,  the  safer  place  for  his 
wife  and  Pauline,  he  thought,  would  be  at  the 
secluded  plantation  house.  As  for  himself,  he  had 
determined  that  he  would  report  at  once  to  General 
Jackson. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  JACKSONIAN  TEMPER. 

The  plantation  to  which  Mrs.  Vernon  and  Pauline 
were  sent  lay  near  the  Mississippi  River,  a  few  miles 
below  New  Orleans.  It  was  a  lonely  place,  and  the 
house,  a  very  plain  and  simple  structure,  stood  close 
to  the  edge  of  a  dreary  swamp.  Hard  by  ran  a 
narrow  ditch  or  canal,  which  was  now  bankful  of 
muddy-looking  water. 

Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes,  at  the  urgent  request 
of  the  Vernons,  accompanied  them,  although  her 
own  parents  decided  to  remain  in  the  city. 

One  who  is  in  the  least  familiar  with  the  topo- 
graphy of  the  region  round  about  New  Orleans  and 
with  the  plan  of  attack  determined  upon  by  the 
British  general  will  suspect  that  the  refugees,  in 
going  to  the  plantation,  were  running  almost 
directly  toward  the  enemy  instead  of  fleeing  from 
him.  This  was  so  in  fact,  although  Mr.  Vernon  did 
not  for  a  moment  suppose  that  the  final  advance 
could  be  from  any  other  direction  than  Lake  Pont- 
chartrain,  which  lies  north  of  New  Orleans. 
[204] 


THE   JACKSONIAN   TEMPER.  205 

Lieutenant  Ballanche  had  not  yet  returned  from 
his  reconnaissance  of  the  Bayou-Bienvenu  region, 
nor  had  there  come  any  definite  report  of  the  enemy's 
movements  on  Borgne  or  up  the  Rigolets  when  Mr. 
Vernon  took  his  long  rifle  and  reported  to  General 
Jackson,  desiring  to  fight  as  an  independent  private. 

It  is  always  so  in  the  case  of  an  impending  advance 
of  an  army  upon  a  city  wholly  unprepared  for 
defense.  The  want  of  a  sufficient  force  to  keep  all 
the  avenues  of  approach  well  under  observation 
results,  generally  speaking,  in  a  total  ignorance  of 
just  what  it  is  most  needful  to  know.  Doubtless 
General  Jackson  was  in  possession  of  more  facts 
regarding  the  whereabouts  and  purposes  of  the 
English  than  the  circumstances  seemed  to  indicate; 
still  the  lack  of  troops  and  munitions  and  the  con- 
fusing number  and  intricacy  of  the  waterways  and 
the  landways  by  which  it  was  quite  possible  for  his 
foes  to  reach  him  made  everything  like  regular  mil- 
itary preparation  and  action  on  his  part  well  nigh 
impossible.  His  memory  was  good,  and  when  Mr. 
Vernon  presented  himself  and  asked  to  be  assigned 
at  once  to  duty,  he  recollected  everything  in  con- 
nection with  their  past  interviews.  Secretly  he  was 
glad  to  make  amends  for  the  brusqueness  of  those 
occasions,  and  he  was  quick  to  understand  that  here 
was  a  chance  for  him  to  secure,  perhaps,  the  adhesion 
of  a  class  of  malcontents  who  he  understood  would 
accept  Mr.  Vernon  as  their  leader.  He  grasped  the 
burly  old  man's  hand  with  diplomatic  warmth  (for 
Jackson,  despite  his  willfulness,  was  a  born  poli- 
tician) and  pressed  it. 


206  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  come,  Mr.  Vernon,"  he  said, 
with  a  straight,  strong  gaze  of  confidence  and 
pleasure,  "  for  I  need  you.  You  can  serve  me  and 
the  country  to  great  advantage  just  now,  sir — to 
great  advantage,  indeed.  I  want  a  company  of 
volunteers  armed  with  rifles,  or,  for  that  matter, 
with  guns  of  whatever  kind  can  be  had.  You  are 
just  the  man  to  raise  and  lead  such  a  company." 

The  general  was  a  magnetic  man,  and  he  knew 
how  to  direct  his  great  personal  power  ;  but  in  an 
instant  he  felt  the  counter-thrust  of  an  invulnerable 
individuality.  Mr.  Vernon's  immense  physical  pro- 
portions seemed  just  then  to  fling  out  a  spiritual 
and  moral  spell  which,  if  it  did  not  entangle  Jack- 
son's agile  mind,  wrought  a  singular  effect  upon  his 
imagination. 

The  two  men  stood  facing  each  other  in  silence 
for  a  moment. 

"Sit  down,  sir,"  said  Jackson,  presently,  pushing 
a  chair  toward  his  visitor. 

The  room  was  a  large,  plain  one,  and  simply  fur- 
nished in  the  main.  The  gaunt  frame  of  the  gen- 
eral, as  roughly  clad  as  if  he  had  just  arrived  from 
the  farm,  bristled  with  angles,  and  a  stubble  of  wiry 
beard  stood  out  stiffly  on  his  grim,  sunburnt  face. 

*'  I  prefer  to  fight  as  a  private  individual  attached 
to  any  company  that  you  may  choose  to  assign  me 
to,"  said  Mr.  Vernon,  without  appearing  to  notice 
the  proffered  seat.  "  I  am  not  seeking  an  office, 
general." 

"  Of  course,  you  are  not.  But  the  office  seeks  you, 
sir." 


THE   JACKSON1AN   TEMPER.  207 

"  No,  there  are  officers,  and  to  spare,  as  you  said 
the  other  day  ;  and,  besides,  I  am  not  a  military 
man." 

"  You  are  a  leader  of  citizens,  and  that  's  better." 

Jackson  could  not  help  admiring  the  old  man, 
standing  there  like  a  Hercules,  grown  gray  in  doing 
miracles  of  powess.  What  limbs  he  had,  what 
shoulders,  what  a  large  head  and  what  bulging 
muscles  !  Some  rumor  of  his  past  life,  a  vague  but 
fascinating  story  of  wanderings  on  the  seas  and  of 
stormy  but  successful  experiences  in  the  wars  of 
many  lands,  had  come  to  the  general's  ears  from 
this  or  that  accidental  source.  Very  few  imagina- 
tions are  proof  against  such  a  film  of  romance  hover- 
ing over  an  individual  who  emphasizes  its  allure- 
ment with  a  personal  appearance  altogether  extra- 
ordinary. 

"  I  am  too  old,  general,  to  think  of  taking  com- 
mand of  even  a  company,"  said  Mr.  Vernon  after  a 
moment.  He  spoke  with  respectful  thoughtfulness, 
but  behind  his  words  was  a  reserve  of  something 
like  conscious  superiority,  or,  at  least,  of  absolute 
self-confidence.  He  folded  his  arms  across  his 
immense  chest,  his  long  rifle  in  the  hollow  of  his 
left  elbow,  its  butt  on  the  floor  between  his  feet. 
"  No,  I  prefer  to  fight  as  an  individual  rifleman  ; 
and,  although  I  am  old,  my  eyes  are  still  good — I 
shoot  well." 

"  Now,  what  is  the  use,  Mr.  Vernon,  of  your  speak- 
ing like  this  !"  demanded  Jackson,  with  a  hint  of 
his  stormy  impatience  in  his  voice.  It  was  not  of 
his  nature  to  brook  resistance.  "  Are  you  not  going 


208  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

ever  to  cease  resenting  my  refusal  to  appoint  Lor- 
ing  ?  I  assure  you,  sir,  that  had  he  been  a  gentle- 
man instead  of  a  scoundrel,  I  still  had  no  place  for 
him." 

"  Ta !  It  is  you  who  are  fretted !  Do  you 
imagine  that  if  I  felt  so  greatly  aggrieved  I  should 
be  here  now  offering  myself  as  a  private  soldier? 
If  I  desired  office,  General  Jackson,  do  you  feel  that 
I  could  not  have  it  without  asking  you  ?" 

There  was  nothing  beneath  the  most  superb 
dignity  in  Mr.  Vernon's  way  of  saying  this.  It  was 
propounded  as  a  simple  question  without  any  ring 
of  personal  pique  or  of  undue  assumption,  and  yet 
there  was  a  sudden  cold,  hard  gleam  in  his  eyes. 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  Jackson,  rather  haughtily  and  as 
if  dismissing  the  matter  once  for  all,  "  you  must  do 
as  you  please." 

"  I  will  do  this  :"  Mr.  Vernon  responded,  without 
taking  any  notice  of  the  general's  mood  ;  "  I  will 
raise  a  company  at  nay  own  expense  and  have  it 
report  to  you,  properly  equipped  and  officered." 

Before  there  could  be  any  reply  to  his  words,  he 
saluted  gravely  and  walked  out  of  the  room. 

The  entrance  at  this  moment  of  Governor  Clai- 
borne,  General  Viller6  and  M.  Tousard,  the  French 
consul,  forced  Jackson's  attention  into  a  new  chan- 
nel ;  but  during  the  interview,  which  was  important, 
his  thought  kept  turning  back  to  the  singular  con- 
ference with  Mr.  Vernon.  And  yet  what  had  there 
really  been  in  it  that  should  impress  him  ?  Cer- 
tainly, the  mere  fact  that  a  citizen  of  New  Orleans 
had  offered  himself  as  a  soldier  was  nothing  peculiar 


THE   JACKSONIAN  TEMPER.  209 

or  impressive ;  men  were  doing  this  every  day. 
Moreover,  what  Mr.  Vernon  had  said  was  simple 
enough.  Jackson  found  that  it  was  the  man's  per- 
sonality, the  extraordinary  presence,  the  suggestion 
of  almost  immeasurable  experience  and  of  incom- 
parable dignity,  reserve,  self-repression  that  lin- 
gered in  his  brain  and  appealed  to  him  in  some 
obscure  but  wonderfully  potent  way.  It  is  credible 
that  Jackson,  who  was  a  man  of  penetrating  insight, 
felt  that  Mr.  Vernon  was  a  type  embodying  the 
strange  spirit  of  this  romantic  Creole  civilization — 
that  in  his  stalwart,  massive  frame  there  dwelt  the 
composite  soul  of  all  this  wild,  free,  untamable 
swarm  in  whose  midst  the  general  now  found  him- 
self, with  no  efficient  means  of  reaching  their 
natures  and  warming  their  sympathies. 

"What  did  Vernon  want?"  Claiborne  ventured, 
in  his  smooth  way,  to  inquire,  after  the  immediate 
business  of  the  interview  was  over. 

"  He  offered  his  services,"  said  Jackson,  evasively. 

"  He  did  ?  That  is  fortunate  just  at  this  juncture. 
Do  you  know,  general,  that  he  is  the  most  import- 
ant man  in  Louisiana  ?" 

"  I  have  been  told  that  he  has  influence." 

"  It  is  unbounded,"  said  the  French  consul. 

"  Yes,"  added  General  Viller6,  with  quick  interest, 
lighting  a  cigar  meantime,  "  we  can  count  upon 
everything  if  his  hearty  support  can  be  secured  at 
once." 

"  I  asked  him  to  raise  and  lead  a  company,"  said 
General  Jackson. 

"  Why,  general,"  said  Villere,  "  I  must  say  that  you 


210  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

have  blundered — unwittingly,  of  course.  Raise  and 
lead  a  company  !  You  should  have  taken  him 
close  to  you  at  once  and  made  him  a  confidential 
adviser." 

"  It  was  he  who  came  with  Faval,  some  time  ago, 
and  asked  me  to  take  that  devil,  Colonel  Loring, 
on  my  staff,"  Jackson  replied  dryly  and  with  a 
savage  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 

"  He  asked  that  ?  He  favored  Loring  !"  ex- 
claimed Villere,  in  an  astonished  tone.  "  Incred- 
ible !" 

In  his  excitement  he  spoke  in  French,  and 
Jackson  did  not  understand  his  words  ;  but  his 
gestures  and  expression  told  as  much  as  his  lan- 
guage. 

"  Oh,  it  was  Faval's  work,  perhaps,"  said  Clai- 
borne.  '*  You  know  that  Vernon  and  Faval  have 
always  been  great  friends." 

"  Vernon  proposes  to  raise  and  equip  a  company 
of  riflemen  at  his  own  expense,"  remarked  Jackson, 
"  but  he  flatly  refuses  to  command  it." 

"Of  course,  he  would  refuse  that,  general,"  said 
the  governor.  "  You  should  not  expect  a  man  of  his 
stamp  to  come  to  that.  I  see  that  you  have  not 
understood  him.  Plainly,  you  do  not  recognize  his 
importance." 

"  Important  or  not  important,"  exclaimed  Jackson, 
permitting  his  natural  irascibility  to  appear,  "  I  do 
not  need  his  advice  or,  for  that  matter,  yours  either  !" 

Claiborne,  who  was  no  mean  diplomat,  held  his 
temper  and  smiled  blandly.  He  had  the  utmost 
confidence  in  Jackson,  and  was  determined  not  to 


THE   JACKSONIAN   TEMPER.  211 

have  a  rupture  with  him  ;  but  he  feared  Mr.  Vernon's 
influence,  and  knew  that  it  was  necessary  to  pre- 
vent, if  possible,  any  further  disagreement  between 
him  and  the  commanding-  general.  Negotiations 
were  in  progress  between  the  governor  and  Lafitte, 
by  which  the  former  hoped  to  bring  a  large  number 
of  the  outlaws  of  Barataria  and  other  resorts  to  the 
aid  of  the  government.  Jackson  was  favoring  this 
scheme,  knowing  that  freebooters  were  capable  of 
doing  most  effective  service  as  soldiers.  He  now 
asked  for  a  private  interview  with  the  general,  and 
when  they  had  passed  into  an  adjoining  room,  he 
said  : 

"  I  understand  your  feelings,  general,  and  am  far 
from  wishing  to  aggravate  them  ;  but  let  me  say  to 
you  in  deepest  confidence  that  Mr.  Vernon  is  just 
now  an  indispensable  person  to  us.  He  alone  can 
control  the  mass  of  the  Creoles  and  especially  the 
lawless  class.  I  tell  you  that  we  cannot  do  without 
him." 

Claiborne  spoke  more  from  conjecture  than  from 
any  definite  knowledge.  He  did  know,  however^ 
that  Mr.  Vernon's  influence  was  as  powerful  as  it 
was  mysterious  ;  that  his  wealth,  though  great,  and 
his  liberality,  though  democratic,  could  not  wholly 
account  for  the  hold  he  certainly  had  upon  the  dan- 
gerous class  of  persons  who  constituted  in  reality 
the  larger  number  of  the  effective  fighting  men  of 
the  State. 

Jackson  walked  the  floor.  He  had  been  terribly 
worried  with  reports  of  plots  and  combinations 
against  him  in  the  city.  The  legislature  had  not 


212  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

done  as  he  wished,  the  courts  were  disposed  to  assert 
the  superiority  of  the  law,  and  certain  of  his  inju- 
dicious friends  had  magnified  to  him  the  evidences 
of  sedition  among  the  Creole  population.  Added 
to  all  this,  reinforcements  were  slow  in  arriving, 
and  such  as  had  come  were  miserably  deficient  in 
equipment,  without  food  and  very  inadequately 
clad  against  the  unusual  cold  of  the  season. 

He  felt  that  patriotism  as  well  as  self-interest 
demanded  of  the  people  of  New  Orleans  and  of 
Louisiana  the  most  enthusiastic  and  heroic  self-de- 
votion in  behalf  of  his  purposes.  Knowing  his  own 
courage  and  genius  and  seeing  with  the  absolute 
vision  of  the  born  general  the  supreme  need  of  the 
hour,  he  could  have  no  patience  with  anything  or 
anybody  that  did  not  fall  at  once  into  line  and  obey 
his  every  command,  execute  his  every  suggestion 
and  show  the  most  active  faith  in  his  superiority. 

"  I  despise  and  detest  the  whole  crew  of  French- 
men," he  presently  blurted  out,  "  and  I'll  blow  them 
to  everlasting  scraps,  before  long,  if  they  persist  in 
their  disloyalty  to  the  country.  Claiborne,  you  go 
at  once  and  tell  that  legislature  to  adjourn — tell 
them  that  I  say  so." 

The  governor  stood  for  a  moment  confounded  ; 
but  it  did  not  take  long  for  him  to  see  that  General 
Jackson  meant  to  be  obeyed. 

*'Ihave  already  suggested  an  adjournment,"  he 
replied,  "  but  of  course  there  is  some  opposition." 

"From  the  infernal  Creoles  ?  But  I  will  not  per- 
mit opposition  from  anybody,  do  you  hear  ?  This 
thing  is  coming  to  a  point  right  shortly.  1  am  in 


THE  JACKSONIAN  TEMPER.  213 

command  here  and,  by  the  Eternal,  I  am  going'  to 
be  master  !  You  go  at  once,  governor,  and  tell  that 
legislature  to  shut  up  shop,  and  if  it  doesn't  do  it  I'll 
pitch  it  bodily  into  the  river.  They  haven't  got  a 
Wilkinson  to  trifle  with  now." 

Along  with  General  Jackson's  assumption  of 
superiority  there  went  an  immense  capacity  for 
being  just  what  he  assumed  to  be.  He  overawed 
Claiborne  from  the  moment  of  his  arrival  in  New 
Orleans,  and,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  took  charge 
of  the  State  Government. 

It  will  never  be  known  just  how  far  actual  treason 
went  in  plotting  the  betrayal  of  Jackson  and  the 
delivery  of  the  city  to  the  British  commander  ;  but 
the  movement  was  more  than  an  incipient  impulse. 
There  were  many  men  in  New  Orleans  who  dreaded 
to  have  the  power  of  the  United  States  government 
well  fixed  in  Louisiana.  Wilkinson  had  more  than 
winked  at  a  free  and  easy  understanding  with  the 
for -bans \  robbers,  negro-stealers  and  smugglers,  and 
there  can  belittle  doubt  that  Claiborne,  although  he 
would  have  preferred  law  and  order,  was  the  sort  of 
politician  to  turn  his  back  and  not  see  the  worst  that 
his  supporters  did.  He  knew  Mr.  Vernon's  power, 
had  more  than  once  felt  it  in  his  favor  when  it  was 
political  salvation  to  have  it  on  his  side. 

He  knew  but  little  of  Colonel  Loring  ;  but  since 
the  incident  of  the  nose-pulling  he  had  heard  a  great 
deal  about  him.  Rumor  was  having  it  everywhere 
that  Loring  and  Pierre  Rameau  were  one  and  the 
same  man,  and  that  now  the  far-reaching  organiza- 


214:  THE   KING    OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

tion  of  which  this  redoubtable  outlaw  was  king 
would  be  turned  against  Jackson. 

Claiborne  had  already  gone  too  far  in  his  support 
of  General  Jackson  to  take  any  backward  step,  even 
if  he  had  desired  to  do  it,  and  it  was  absolutely  nec- 
essary now  that  he  should  use  the  finest  diplomacy, 
in  order  to  avoid  falling  between  two  stools. 

"  I  will  go  at  once,  general,  and  have  a  confer- 
ence with  Louallier  and  Roffignac,"  said  he,  in  a 
tone  of  ready  compliance,  "  and,  if  possible,  I  will 
have  the  adjournment  declared." 

"  Governor,  there  can  be  no  ifs  or  ands  about  it  ; 
the  adjournment  must  come  at  once  !"  exclaimed 
Jackson,  with  overbearing  sternness.  "  They  will 
adjourn,  or  I  will  adjourn  them  !" 

Claiborne's  face  paled  with  sudden  anger,  but  he 
made  no  response  ;  simply  bowed  and  retired.  As 
he  went  out  he  met  Lieutenant  Ballanche  coming  in. 
The  young  man  looked  fatigued  and  somewhat  in  a 
hurry,  as  if  he  had  come  from  a  distance  in  great 
haste  and  was  bearing  important  news  ;  he  greeted 
Claiborne  deferentially  as  he  passed,  but  did  not 
stop.  The  sandy  mud  showing  in  splashes  all  over 
him  t(-ld  of  a  long,  hard  ride. 

The  governor  would  have  given  a  good  deal  to 
know  what  message  Ballanche  was  bearing,  and 
tinder  any  other  circumstances  he  would  have  turned 
back  into  the  room.  He  could  not  trust  himself  to 
do  this  now ;  he  was  too  much  wrought  upon  by 
Jackson's  tyranny.  There  was  something  in  the 
young  officer's  look  and  manner,  however,  that  told 
a  stirring  story, 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

SEEKING    REFUGE. 

The  journey  to  the  plantation  was  a  compara- 
tively short  one,  and  the  three  women  at  first  found 
it  not  so  tiresome  and  uninteresting  as  they  had 
feared,  although  it  was  depressing  to  a  degree. 

They  set  out  early  in  the  morning  through  a 
country  somewhat  gloomy,  and  in  places  covered 
with  water.  The  rain  fell  at  intervals,  but  the  sun 
flashed  warmly  out  between  the  showers,  as  the 
winter  sun  does  in  that  fickle,  April-like  climate, 
giving  them  now  and  then  a  golden  gleam  while 
they  were  trundled  slowly  along  under  the  moss- 
hung  trees.  The  spacious  carriage  with  its  easy 
springs  and  luxurious  cushions  afforded  ample  room 
for  its  fair  occupants  to  rest  at  ease. 

Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes,  who  had  never  been 
much  in  the  country  and  whose  volatile  spirits 
were  easily  set  to  effervescing,  found  a  good  deal  to 
interest  her  on  the  way  ;  but  Mrs.  Vernon  and 
Pauline  could  not  pull  their  minds  away  from  the 
fact  that  they  were  once  more  leaving  Chateau 

[215] 


216  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

d'Or  for  an  indefinite  sojourn  in  a  lonely  plantation 
house.  Their  former  experience  of  country  life  in 
a  remote  place,  as  they  now  involuntarily  recalled 
it,  did  not  present  to  their  minds  its  more  pleasing 
associations,  but  turned  persistently  to  view  those 
closing  incidents  which  were  coupled  with  the  com- 
ing of  Burns  and  the  robbing  of  Vasseur.  To  be 
sure,  Pauline  remembered,  with  a  girl's  vivid  faith- 
fulness, every  look,  every  word,  every  movement  of 
Fairfax  during  those  dawn-hours  of  her  love  ;  but 
the  darker  things  would  insist  on  taking  preced- 
ence, and  her  mind  dwelt  upon  all  that  she  had 
heard  of  Pierre  Rameau  and  his  crimes.  She  and 
her  mother  had  both  strenuously  objected  to  leav- 
ing the  city,  and  having  set  out  under  protest,  they 
woman-like,  made  the  whole  journey  in  a  state  of 
mind  averse  to  any  sentiments  of  wayfaring  appre- 
ciation. 

The  venerable  coachman,  muffled  in  his  broad- 
caped  great-coat,  hummed  many  a  negro  melody  in 
a  soft  falsetto  voice,  and  between  snatches  grumbled 
at  the  horses  because  they  did  not  keep  well  in  the 
rather  vague  roadway. 

"  It  seems  too  bad,"  said  Mademoiselle  de  Sezan- 
nes,  after  she  had  somewhat  exhausted  herself  in 
making  inquiries  touching  the  natural  objects  new 
to  her  eyes  as  they  passed  them  by  in  the  strange 
old  forest — "  It  seems  too  bad  that  this  dreadful  war 
should  break  up  all  our  delightful  winter  enjoy- 
ments and  send  us  away  into  exile  to  dream  of 
slaughter  and  all  manner  of  dreadful  evils.  Is,n't  it 
so,  Pauline  ?" 


SEEKING    KEFUGE.  217 

"  Do  not  speak  of  it  !  It  rends  my  heart  !"  spoke 
tip  Mrs.  Vernon.  "  I  shall  not  see  a  moment's  peace, 
asleep  or  awake,  till  it  is  all  over." 

"  And  how  are  we  to  be  any  safer  away  out  here 
in  the  woods,  I  should  like  to  know  ?"  demanded 
Pauline,  with  more  genuine  petulance  than  her 
mother  had  ever  before  known  her  to  indulge.  "  I 
know  that  I  should  feel  better  at  home  in  the  city." 

"  But  if  I  were  a  man,"  exclaimed  Mademoiselle 
de  Sezannes,  shrugging  her  fine  shoulders  and 
emphasizing  her  words  with  quick  French  gestures, 
"  I  would  stay  at  home  with  my  family  and  protect 
it  instead  of — " 

"  Oh,  no,"  Mrs.  Vernon  interrupted.  "  How 
could  you  protect  them  single-handed  ?  The  men 
are  behaving  heroically,  dear." 

"  And  what  of  us  ?  What  shall  we  do  when  they 
have  been  killed  ?  I  think  it  more  heroic  to  stay 
with  those  you  love  and  lead  them  out  of  danger 
and  keep  yourself  alive  for  them  than  to  fight  all 
the  battles  in  the  world  and  die." 

"  If  the  men  felt  in  that  way,  dear,  the  English 
would  burn  New  Orleans  before  the  week's  end.  It 
would  be  unmitigated  cowardice.  Don't  you  know 
it  would,  dear  ?" 

"  I  don't  care  !  I  don't  care  !  So  there  !"  ex- 
claimed the  excitable  girl,  beginning  to  cry.  "  I 
want  to  go  back  home.  Tell  the  coachman  to  turn 
around.  I  can't  go  on  !  I  can't  !  I  can't  !" 

Pauline  joined  her  friend  in  shedding  tears  freely. 
She,  too,  felt  a  sudden,  uncontrollable  desire  to  fly 
back  to  the  city.  The  two  clasped  each  other  o,nd 


218  THE    KING   OF    HONEY    ISLAND. 

nestled  their  young  heads  together,  sobbing  hysteri- 
cally, while  the  carriage  rolled  softly  along  over 
the  slushy  sand  or  bumped  against  the  palmetto 
roots. 

Mrs.  Vernon  understood  the  unexpressed  thoughts 
of  the  girls,  and  felt  that  fine  sympathy  which 
makes  the  true  mother  so  clear  and  tender  a  critic 
of  her  daughter's  love.  She  beat  back,  though  she 
could  not  forget  her  own  distress  in  her  desire  to 
console  and  inspirit  those  budding  hearts  upon 
which  the  first  rude  wind  of  trouble  was  blowing. 

It  was  while  she  was  using  her  best  endeavors  to 
distract  their  attention  from  the  subject  of  the  war 
that  the  carriage  suddenly  stopped,  and  she  heard 
some  one  speaking  to  the  coachman  in  a  sharp, 
nasal  voice. 

"  Kem  all  the  way  f 'om  town,  hev  ye  ?"  the  man 
was  saying.  "  An'  w'at  air  folks  a-doin'up  thar'  ?" 

"  I  cayn'  say,  seh,"  answered  the  coachman,  whose 
English  was  of  the  thin,  mincing,  Creole  kind.  "  I 
cayn'  say  vat  zey  do." 

"  An'  who  ye  got  inter  the  car'ge  thar'  ?" 

"  I  hev'  ze  madame  an'  ze  ma'm'zelles,  seh." 

"  Oh,  weeming,  air  they  ?  An'  whar'  air  ye 
a-takin'  'em  to  ?" 

"  To  ze  plantaseeon,  seh." 

"  What  pertic'ler  plantation  air  ye  a-takin'  'em 
to?" 

"  It  ees  Mess'u  Vernon's,  seh." 

"  Humph  !  Let  me  take  er  squint  inter  thet  air 
vehicle." 

Mrs.  Vernon  recoiled  from  the  wizened,  wrinkled 


SEEKING    REFUGE.  219 

old  face  that  was  just  then  thrust  close  to  the 
Carriage  window.  Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes 
screamed  shrilly. 

"  Beg  parding,  weeming,  beg  yer  marciful  par- 
ding  !"  exclaimed  the  queer  looking  old  fellow, 
touching  his  'coon-skin  cap.  "  Don't  ye  be  uneasy 
or  afeared  ;  Enos  Peevy  ain't  agoin'  to  do  ye  no 
harm." 

He  shifted  the  long,  heavy  rifle  by  a  quick,  deft 
movement,  so  as  to  let  it  rest  more  easily  in  the 
hollow  of  his  bony  shoulder,  at  the  same  time  a 
huge  quid  of  tobacco  was  rolled  from  one  side 
of  his  mouth  to  the  other. 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  weeming  folks,  I  air  your  friend  ; 
don't  ye  git  sceert.  Hit  air  my  jooty,  ye  know, 
bein'  a  scout  fer  Ginerl  Jackson,  ter  kinder  squint 
inter  car'ges  an'  things  ter  see  w'at's  in  'em  ;  but  I 
don't  hurt  nobody  ner  nothin'." 

He  looked  very  kindly  into  the  faces  of  the  ladies 
and  chewed  his  tobacco  with  great  complacency. 

Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes  began  to  speak 
volubly  to  him  in  French  ;  but  he  only  grinned  and 
scratched  his  head. 

"  'T  ain't  no  use  a-flingin'  thet  air  sort  er  stuff  at 
me,  young  'oman.  Up  in  Tennessee  we  jes'  talks 
thet  same  ole  lang'age  w'at  we  allus  did." 

"  You  say  you  are  scouting  for  Jackson  ?"  suavely 
inquired  Mrs.  Vernon,  merely  to  collect  herself. 

"  Yas,  mum  ;  the  gin'ral  an'  me  runs  together. 
Wharsomever  ye  fin*  him  ye'll  stagger  on  to  me 
pooty  clost  'roun'  thar'.  He  calls  me  Ole  Eyes  ; 
but  my  name  air  nothin'  but  Enos  Peevy." 


220  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

"  Thank  you,  sir.  Good  morning.  Drive  on, 
Catulle."  Mrs.  Vernon  smiled  and  bowed  to  the 
man  as  graciously  as  if  he  had  been  a  courtier. 

The  coachman,  obedient  to  the  order  of  his  mis- 
tress, started  the  horses  on  at  a  brisk  gaitr. 

"  What  a  queer  person  !"  exclaimed  Mademoiselle 
de  Sezannes,  when  they  were  well  away  from  the 
spot.  "  Tennessee  must  be  a  strange  country  if  it 
is  inhabited  by  that  sort  of  people." 

"  But  he  had  a  kind  face  and  an  engaging  way 
despite  his  odd  dress  and  comical  dialect,"  said  Mrs. 
Vernon,  "  and  I  should  be  ready  to  trust  him  at  a 
time  of  danger." 

"  Oh,  but  he's  so  hideously  ugly." 

"No,  not  ugly,  dear  ;  only  outlandish -looking.  I 
noted  his  features  carefully  and  found  them  of 
almost  Grecian  regularity.  Old  age  and  exposure 
have  wrinked  and  bronzed  him  ;  but  he  has  clear, 
honest  eyes  and  a  good  face,  on  the  whole." 

Mrs.  Vernon  urged  the  discussion  in  order  to 
draw  the  minds  of  the  girls  away  from  the  recent 
channel  of  thought.  Pauline  was  inclined  to  side 
with  Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes  and  say  that  the 
scout  did  not  strike  her  as  a  person  to  be  implicitly 
believed  in.  He  must  have  had  some  ulterior  de- 
sign in  stopping  the  carriage.  It  was  very  easy  for 
a  man  to  call  himself  a  scout ;  he  might  be  a  robber 
or  even  an  English  spy.  Certainly  he  had  found 
out  by  most  adroit  work  who  they  were,  where  they 
were  going  and  what  they  had  in  their  carriage. 
Perhaps  he  would  come  that  very  night  and  rob 
them  of  their  money  and  jewels. 


SEEKING    REFUQE.  221 

"  Oh,  I  know  that's  just  what  he  will  do  !"  cried 
Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes,  relapsing  again  into  hys- 
terical weeping  and  beginning  to  wring  her  hands. 
"  Oh,  please,  Madame  Vernon,  tell  the  coachman  to 
take  us  back  !  We  shall  all  be  murdered  this  very 
night  !" 

The  suggestion  was  infectious.  Pauline  caught 
the  chill  of  fear,  and  Mrs.  Vernon  lost  control  of 
herself  at  an  unguarded  moment. 

The  carriage  rumbled  on  through  the  forest,  and, 
if  there  had  been  any  person  to  hear,  the  voices  of 
the  women  crying  in  discord  must  have  sounded 
strange  indeed  under  the  circumstances. 

The  coachman  must  also  have  been  affected,  for 
he  urged  his  horses  impatiently  and  kept  increasing 
their  speed  until  they  were  making  a  rather  reck- 
less dash  of  it  along  the  road  within  view  of  a  broad 
grassy  marsh  stretching  away  to  a  shining  sheet 
of  water. 

Mrs.  Vernon  drew  all  the  curtains  close  over  the 
windows,  as  soon  as  she  could  command  herself,  and 
began  to  chide  Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes  and  Paul- 
ine for  their  foolish  excitement. 

Just  then  there  was  the  sound  of  a  horse  gallop- 
ing by  in  an  opposite  course  to  that  of  the  carriage. 
Pauline  looked  out  of  the  little  rear  window,  her  eyes 
still  streaming  tears. 

"  Why,  it  is  Lieutenant  Ballanche  !"  she  ex- 
claimed. "  Why  didn't  he  stop  and  speak  to  us  ?" 

Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes  almost  thrust  her  from 
the  pane  in  her  eagerness  to  look  out. 


222  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

"  It  is  !  It  is  !"  she  quavered.  "  Call  to  him  ! 
Stop  him  !  Oh—" 

She  clasped  her  hands  and  gazed  while  the  vig- 
orous bounds  of  the  horse  bore  the  young  officer 
farther  and  farther  back  along  the  meandering  road 
between  the  trees,  and  presently  lost  him  behind  a 
fringe  of  bay  bushes  in  the  distance. 

"  Oh,  he  never  looked  back  or  made  even  a  sign  ; 
and  he  must  have  known  us  !"  cried  Mademoiselle 
de  Sezannes. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  carriage  was  drawn  up  in 
front  of  the  plantation  house,  which  was  a  one-story, 
wooden  structure  set  upon  a  high  foundation  of  oak 
posts  connected  by  a  lattice-work  of  slender  boards. 
An  orange  grove,  dark  and  rich,  stood  in  the 
background,  and  over  a  squat,  broad  veranda  grew 
a  closely  matted  jasmine  vine.  In  the  distance 
were  rows  of  negro  cabins  built  under  the  shade  of 
immense  moss-draped  live-oaks. 

The  coachman  dismounted  and  opened  the  car- 
riage-door for  the  ladies,  and  little  Lizette,  Lapin's 
daughter,  ran  out  of  the  house  to  greet  them.  A 
sharp,  salt  breath  from  the  marshes  not  far  off  was 
blowing  merrily. 

Mrs.  Vernon  descended  first,  followed  by  Made- 
moiselle de  Sezannes,  and  then  Pauline  precipitated 
herself  upon  Lizette,  whose  dark,  pretty  face  was  all 
dimples  and  smiles. 

The  sun  came  out,  too,  as  if  to  clear  away  with  a 
flood  of  golden  light  all  the  gloom  that  had  attended 
the  little  journey. 

"  Well,   weeming  folks,   I   air  mighty   much   er- 


SEEKING    REFUGE.  223 

bleeged  ter  ye  for  this  yar  ride  w'at  ye  let  me  hev','' 
remarked  the  well-remembered  voice  of  Enos  Peevy, 
the  scout.  The  old  fellow  had  found  a  seat  between 
the  curved  suspension  springs  behind  the  carriage, 
where  he  had  ridden  unobserved,  and  now  he 
stepped  forth,  gun  in  hand,  evidently  well  satisfied 
with  himself  and  every  person  present. 

"  Ef  ye  'd  er  knowed  'at  I  's  thar',  I  s'pec'  ye  'd 
a'  cried  more  'n  ye  did.  He-he-he  !  Ha-ha-ha  ! 
But  ye  didn't  know  it,  did  ye  ?"  He  chuckled  and 
grimaced  comically.  "  Well,  weeming  folks,"  he 
added  presently,  shouldering  his  long  rifle  and 
adjusting  his  otter-skin  bullet-pouch  and  his  trans- 
parent powder-horn,  "  I  mus*  be  a-goin'.  Ef  ever 
I  kin  do  ye  a  sarvice  I'll  do  it.  Good-bye,  weeming 
folks." 

He  turned  about  and  walked  away,  as  straight  as 
an  arrow  and  as  brisk  as  a  boy  ;  but  before  he  had 
gone  far  he  looked  back,  stopped,  appeared  to  reflect 
a  moment  arid  then  called  back  to  them  : 

"  Say,  weeming  folks,  I'll  tell  ye  what  :  Ef  I  see 
any  sign  o'  Britishers  eroun'  yar,  w'y,  I'll  jes*  step 
in  an'  tell  ye,  so  's  ye  kin  git  up  an'  skin  out  afore 
they  cotch  ye." 

There  was  something  honest  and  earnest  in  the 
ring  of  his  voice,  and  the  gleam  from  his  steel-blue 
eyes,  if  not  warm,  was  steadfast  and  friendly. 
When  he  was  gone,  Mrs.  Vernon  remembered  this 
and  wondered  why  she  had  not  thanked  him  for  his 
proffered  kindness  ;  but  the  mention  of  British 
soldiers,  coupled  with  the  suggested  probability 
that  they  might  visit  the  place,  so  alarmed  her,  that 


224  THE   KINO   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

she  could  not  think  of  anything  else  for  the  moment 
that  he  was  speaking. 

They  found  the  house  most  comfortably  prepared 
for  them,  and  when  Lapin  arrived  later  in  the  day, 
with  such  of  the  servants  from  Chateau  d'Or  as  Mr. 
Vernon  had  thought  best  to  send,  there  came  such 
a  sense  of  homelike  security  that  they  could  not 
help  looking  at  one  another  complacently  in  silent 
acknowledgment  of  what,  it  now  seemed,  had  been 
a  mood  of  undue  nervousness. 

Lizette  had  brought  in  from  the  flower-garden 
great  bouquets  of  roses  and  violets  (for,  despite  the 
unusual  cold  weather,  the  vines  and  tangled  beds 
were  still  a  mass  of  bloom),  and  with  these  she  had 
deftly  decorated  the  airy  and  fresh-smelling  rooms. 
Moreover,  a  delicate  luncheon  was  awaiting  them, 
set  in  a  cozy  alcove  where  low,  broad  windows  let  in 
a  soft  light  which  was  first  filtered  through  a  screen 
of  magnolia-boughs  and  a  gray  fringe  of  Spanish 
moss. 

Under  the  circumstances,  it  was  quite  impossible 
for  three  women,  all  of  them  French,  to  be  other- 
wise than  enthusiastic,  even  if  their  enthusiasm  did 
consciously  root  itself  back  in  a  heavy  sense  of  but 
half-suppressed  dread. 

Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes  was,  perhaps,  the  most 
cheerful  one.  She  even  tried  to  be  gay  over  the 
conduct  of  Lieutenant  Ballanche,  whom  she  per- 
sisted in  accusing  of  willfully  passing  her  by 
unnoticed. 

It  is  due  to  the  young  man  to  say,  however,  that 
he  was  scarcely  aware  of  the  carriage  as  he  rode 


SEEKING    REFUGE.  225 

past  it.  His  head  was  down,  and  his  thoughts  were 
fixed  on  a  most  important  duty  ;  for  he  was  flying 
to  General  Jackson  with  news  from  within  the 
enemy's  lines.  A  fleet  of  barges,  heavily  manned 
with  finely  equipped  soldiers,  was  on  Bayou  Bien- 
venu,  and  in  a  few  hours  the  English  would  have 
an  army  safely  landed  below  the  city.  The  inform- 
ation this  time  was  authentic,  for  with  his  own  eyes 
he  had  seen  what  he  was  to  report. 

Naturally  earnest  and  intense  in  his  disposition, 
he  felt  to  the  fullest  measure  the  responsibility 
resting  upon  him.  He  would  not  trust  any  courier 
to  bear  the  message  which  might  hold  the  fate 
of  New  Orleans  and  the  country.  So  he  rode  all 
the  way  as  fast  as  he  dared  urge  his  horse,  and  on 
his  nerves  lay  the  strain  of  an  all-absorbing  excite- 
ment. The  carriage  whisked  past  him  as  a  mere 
formless,  colorless  incident  of  his  flight  to  head- 
quarters. He  remembered  afterward  well  enough 
when  he  would  have  given  his  life  to  know  that  he 
had  halted  just  long  enough  to  bid  the  coachman 
turn  back  and  drive  at  once  to  New  Orleans. 
Everything  and  every  person  visible  about  the  car- 
riage came  out  strong  and  clear,  like  a  suddenly 
developed  photograph,  in  his  mind.  The  horses, 
the  round-faced,  snowy- wooled  coachman,  the  closely 
drawn  curtains,  the  wheels  flecked  with  sandy  mud 
— even  the  old  man  riding  on  the  projection  between 
the  high-curved  springs — he  could  see  all  so  plainly 
and  yet  through  what  a  film  of  horrible  mystery  ! 
And  in  that  closed  vehicle,  though  unseen  by  him, 
the  girl  he  loved,  the  girl  who  had  so  lately  prom- 


226  THE   KING   OF    HONEY   ISLAND. 

ised  to  be  his  wife  was  going  on  all  unhindered  to 
disappear  as  completely  and  mysteriously  as  if 
caught  up  by  the  spirits  of  the  air. 

Mrs.  Vernon  and  the  young  ladies  passed  the  rest 
of  the  day  in  comparative  comfort  of  mind.  Lapin 
was  there  with  a  score  or  more  of  strong  colored 
men  to  protect  them  ;  everything  look  peaceful  and 
sweet.  Why  should  they  be  afraid  ?  They  would 
not  be  afraid,  they  declared  they  would  not  ;  they 
would  be  brave  women  worthy  of  strong-hearted 
patriotic  men.  They  vowed  it  in  their  inmost  hearts. 

So  long  as  daylight  lasted,  they  held  well  to  their 
determination  and  kept  up  a  fine  show  of  it  ;  but 
even  when  dinner  came,  served  so  faultlessly  by 
Lizette,  their  hearts  began  to  sink  a  little,  and  they 
felt  the  chill  creeping  over  them  again. 

Mrs.  Vernon  struggled  vigorously  against  what 
she  knew  was  the  worst  thing  for  them,  but  what 
could  she  do  when  a  dense  fog  blew  in  from  Borgne 
and  the  night  became  an  encircling  wall  of  black- 
ness, through  which  the  low  moaning  of  some  tall 
pine-trees  crept  with  infinite  sadness  ? 

She  looked  for  a  book  to  read  aloud  and  chanced 
upon  an  old  edition  of  "  La  Princesse  de  Chves,"  by 
Madame  LaFayette.  The  girls  huddled  close  to 
her,  and  she  tried  to  make  them  interested  in  the 
story,  taking  care  not  to  go  too  far  into  its  senti- 
mentalities. Her  voice,  however,  sounded  unnatu- 
ral, she  thought,  and  the  volume  was  soon  thrown 
aside. 

"  I  can  never,  never  go  to  sleep  to-night !"  cried 


SEEKING    KEFUGE.  227 

Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes.  "  Oh,  why  did  I  ever 
come  here  !" 

Lapin  was  in  the  kitchen  ;  they  heard  him  sing- 
ing a  patois  ditty  between  his  pipes.  Lizette  had 
gone  to  bed. 

"  We  shall  be  ashamed  of  ourselves  in  the  morn- 
ing," said  Mrs.  Vernon.  "  The  sun  will  come  up, 
and  everything  will  be  so  bright  and  cheerful  that 
it  will  seem  like  sinful  folly  to  have  been  afraid." 

"  And  think  what  they — what  the  men  who  are  in 
the  camps  to-night  may  soon  have  to  meet  !"  Paul- 
ine found  courage  to  say.  "  It  is  they  who  have 
the  right  to  be  wretched  ;  and  yet  I  dare  say  they 
never  think  of  complaining." 

"  I  know  I  am  heartless  and  selfish,"  Mademoi- 
selle de  Sezannes  half  sobbed,  "  but  I  can't  help  it — 
it's  dreadful  !  Why  did  they  send  us  away  off  out 
here  alone  in  the  dark  ?  And  then  to  think  that  he 
would  ride  right  past  like  that !" 

Mrs.  Vernon  smiled  wretchedly. 

"  How  could  he  know,  dear,  that  you  were  in  the 
carriage  ?  All  of  the  curtains  were  closely  drawn, 
you  remember,  and  he  could  not  have  seen  any  of 
us." 

"  He  might  have  stopped  us — he  didn't  look — 
he—" 

Just  then  there  arose  a  trampling  sound,  as  of 
men  crossing  the  veranda.  Some  one  knocked  on 
the  door,  and  they  heard  voices. 

Mrs.  Vernon  sprang  to  her  feet,  the  girls  clinging 
tightly  and  breathlessly  to  her. 

Lapin  came  in  from  the  kitchen  when  he  heard 


228  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

the  knocking  and  stood  irresolute.  He  still  held 
his  pipe  in  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  he  was 
aimlessly  fumbling  in  the  pocket  of  his  jacket. 

"  Go  to  see  who  it  is,"  Mrs.  Vernon  managed  to 
say. 

Lapin  went  gingerly  to  the  door  and  called  out  in 
a  weak  voice : 

"  Who's  there  ?" 

"  A  friend,"  was  the  prompt  answer. 

Pauline  and  her  mother  started  and  looked  at  each 
other. 

It  was  the  voice  of  Colonel  Loring. 

"  Open  the  door  immediately  !"  he  commanded 
gruffly.  "  There's  no  time  for  ceremony  !" 

Lapin,  in  a  very  ague  of  fear,  fumbled  at  the  bars 
and  bolts.  His  hands  shook  so  that  he  made  slow 
work  of  it,  and  when  at  last  he  quakingly  pulled 
open  the  heavy  wooden  shutter,  he  fell  back  aghast 
before  the  tall  form  of  the  incomer  and  gasped 
hoarsely  : 

"  Pierre  Rameau  !" 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  SHADOWS  OF  DARK  DAYS. 

When  Lieutenant  Ballanche  returned  from  his 
reconnaissance  in  the  direction  of  the  mouth  of 
Bayou  Bienvenu,  he  brought  a  report  which  caused 
General  Jackson  to  issue  orders  immediately  for  the 


THE  SHADOWS  OF  DAKK  DAYS.         229 

doubling  of  all  the  outpost  pickets  and  for  all  the 
troops  to  hold  themselves  ready  to  march  at  the  tap 
of  the  drum. 

As  yet  the  reinforcements  so  long  and  so  anx- 
iously waited  for  had  not  arrived,  and  the  situation 
was  most  perplexing.  From  a  hundred  sources 
came  the  information,  doubtless  exaggerated  and 
over-colored,  that  the  Creoles  of  the  city  were  con- 
cocting an  uprising  in  favor  of  the  English.  Thus 
to  the  commanding  general  it  appeared  that,  with 
an  overwhelming  alien  enemy  before  him,  he  should 
have  to  move  his  little  army  down  the  river  and 
leave  behind  him  a  horde  of  traitors,  who  were  but 
waiting  for  an  opportunity  to  fall  upon  the  supplies 
in  the  rear  and  so  render  defeat  inevitable. 

It  was  at  this  point  that  Mr.  Vernon  came  to  his 
aid  with  three  hundred  men  well  armed  and 
equipped.  They  were  not  a  soldierly  looking  bat- 
talion, measured  by  the  ordinary  standard  of  mili- 
tary taste,  but  there  was  fight  in  them  ;  and  Jackson, 
who  read  men  at  a  glance,  felt  their  efficiency,  as 
he  looked  them  over  in  a  hasty  review. 

Mr.  Vernon  had  acted  with  amazing  energy  in 
the  matter,  sending  out  runners  to  call  a  meeting 
in  one  of  the  public  squares.  Singularly  enough 
these  couriers  did  not  seem  to  notify  the  better 
class  of  people  ;  but  entered  the  gambling  dens,  the 
low  cafes,  the  haunts  of  the  Chats-Haunts,  the  huts 
of  the  river  rats  and  the  garrets  of  the  quadroon 
quarters.  And  out  of  these  places  poured  men 
and  youths  of  all  colors,  a  motley  crowd,  speaking  a 
half-dozen  languages,  strangely  picturesque,  ready 


230  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

for  anything,  and  especially  ready  and  willing-  to 
go  and  do  whatever  Jules  Vernon  might  ask  of 
them.  Their  coming  together  was  reported  to 
Jackson  who,  at  first  supposing  them  a  mob  of  bis 
enemies,  thought  of  marching  a  force  to  disperse 
them  ;  but  he  was  restrained  after  much  persuasion 
by  Claiborne,  Edward  Livingston  and  Commodore 
Patterson. 

Upon  so  small  an  event  hung  the  fate  of  New 
Orleans.  Had  that  meeting  of  the  lawless  ones 
been  interfered  with  in  the  slightest  by  the  mili- 
tary, the  city  would  have  been  burned  to  the 
ground,  with  the  result  of  a  fatal  panic  in  the 
already  suffering  American  army. 

Mr.  Vernon  had  caused  a  small  platform  to  be 
erected  in  the  square  ;  from  this  he  addressed  his 
motley  assembly  in  English,  in  French,  in  Spanish 
and  in  German.  He  knew  just  what  to  say  to  them 
and  just  how  to  say  it.  His  huge  frame  and  power- 
fully magnetic  face  were  stong  auxiliaries  to  his 
eloquent  words  and  richly  sonorous  voice.  Almost 
immediately  the  vast  crowd  beneath  him  was  wild 
with  enthusiasm  ;  their  shouts  were  heard  at  Jack- 
son's headquarters,  whither  word  was  quickly 
brought  that  a  popular  movement  was  being  suc- 
cessfully agitated  in  his  favor  by  Mr.  Vernon. 

The  iron  chieftain's  face  lit  up  with  hope  and 
pleasure.  Ordering  his  horse,  he  at  once  rode  to 
the  scene,  coming  up  at  the  time  when  the  crowd 
was  at  its  highest  pitch  of  excitement. 

Mr.  Vernon  took  quick  advantage  of  the  incident 


THE  SHADOWS  OF  DARK  DATS.        231 

Pointing  to  the  general  as  he  sat  like  a  grim  statue 
in  his  saddle,  he  thundered  forth  : 

"  Behold,  citizens  !  Yonder  rides  your  leader — 
your  unconquerable  general !" 

Every  face  was  turned,  and  every  eye  was  riveted 
upon  the  gaunt  form  and  implacable  face  of  Jack- 
son. He  lifted  his  hat  and  waved  it  with  a  slow 
sweep  around  his  head.  For  a  moment  they  saw 
the  shock  of  bristling  hair,  the  stern  brows  and  the 
firm  lips — they  saw  the  steely  eyes  gleam  as  with  a 
vision  of  victory. 

"  Live  the  Republic  !"  roared  Mr.  Vernon,  with 
the  voice  of  a  lion.  "  Live  the  brave  general  who 
has  come  to  save  New  Orleans  and  Louisiana  !" 

He  spoke  in  French,  and  his  words  were  the  sig- 
nal for  a  very  tempest  of  vehement  applause.  The 
excitable  rabble  took  up  the  cry  : 

"  Live  the  American  Republic  !  Live  the  brave 
general  !"  And  added  thereto  :  "  Down  with  the 
English  !" 

Claiborne,  Louallier  and  other  members  of  the 
State  government  chanced  to  be  in  the  street,  and 
when  they  heard  the  shouts  paused  to  hearken. 

"  Vive  la  republique  des  Etas-Unis  /"  arose  clear  and 
loud,  above  the  general  din. 

"  There  !"  exclaimed  Clairborne.  "  What  did  I 
tell  J  ackson  ?  That  is  Vernon  warming  up  the 
slums.  It  means  everything,  everything  !" 

"  If  Vernon  tells  them  to  fetch  him  coals  from  the 
devil's  oven,  they  will  go  after  them  !"  said  Loual- 
lier. 


232  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

"  And  bring  them  in  their  bare  hands,"  added 
Claiborne. 

That  very  night  three  companies  were  formed 
and  armed  by  Mr.  Vernon,  and  the  next  day  they 
reported  for  duty. 

General  Jackson  was  delighted,  and  when  Mr. 
Vernon  called  at  his  headquarters,  he  seized  his 
hand  and  wrung  it  savagely. 

"  You  are  the  kind  of  a  man  that  I  like  !"  he 
exclaimed,  his  face  lighting  up  and  its  hard  lines 
softening  into  cordial  enthusiasm  of  expression. 
"  You  are  the  noblest  man  of  this  noble  State  !" 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  general's  feelings, 
and  Mr.  Vernon  could  not  repel  them  ;  indeed  the 
fire  of  the  old  days,  when  he  fought  by  sea  and 
land,  was  burning  high  now  ;  he  had  fanned  it  with 
his  own  oratory  in  stirring  up  the  embers  in  the 
breasts  of  that  reckless  crowd. 

"  I  know,  general,  that  the  safety  of  New  Orleans 
depends  upon  the  courage  and  patriotism  of  her 
own  children,"  was  all  the  reply  that  he  made  ;  but 
his  manner  and  voice  told  how  deeply  he  felt. 

"  True,  sir ;  true  as  Gospel !"  said  Jackson,  still 
holding  on  to  his  hand.  "  And  you  will  lead  them, 
and  those  English  dogs  will  yelp  and  cringe  before 
you.  You  are  the  mainstay  of  everything  now  ;  we 
cannot  do  without  you." 

It  was  as  if  a  son  were  speaking  to  a  father. 
Jackson  was  in  the  full  prime  of  life,  and,  though 
worn  by  sickness,  still  stalwart  and  rugged  ;  but 
Mr.  Vernon  looked  the  master  who  could  enforce 
his  will,  even  with  the  stubborn  and  relentless  com- 


THE  SHADOWS  OF  DARK  DAYS.        233 

mander.  He  smiled  a  strange,  illuminating  smile, 
and  his  deep-set  eyes  glowed  out  from  under  his 
grizzled  and  shaggy  brows  with  a  power  that  was 
irresistible 

"  I  am  at  your  command,  general — I  and  these 
men.  Where  you  say  go,  there  we  will  go  or  die." 

When  Lieutenant  Ballanche  came  in  with  the 
report  from  Bayou  Bienvenu,  Jackson  sent  immedi- 
ately for  Mr.  Vernon,  but  was  unable  to  see  him  till 
the  next  morning,  when  he  told  him  of  the  ad- 
vance of  the  English. 

The  old  man's  face  blanched. 

"  But  my  wife  and  my  daughter  !"  he  hurriedly 
said.  "  They  have  just  gone  out  to  my  plantation 
near  the  Bayou.  I  sent  them  there  but  yesterday." 

"  Then  you  had  better  go  get  them  and  bring 
them  back,"  was  Jackson's  blunt  rejoinder.  "  We 
march  down  the  river  immediately." 

"  Mademoiselle  Marie  de  Sezannes  is  with  my 
family,"  said  Mr.  Vernon,  turning  to  Lieutenant 
Ballanche. 

It  was  now  that  young  officer's  turn  to  grow  a 
trifle  pale. 

'"Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes!"1  he  echoed 
quickly. 

"  Yes.  She  accompanied  my  wife  and  daugh- 
ter." 

"  General,"  said  the  lieutenant,  "  I  ask  for  a  small 
detachment  and  leave  to  go  after  the  ladies." 

"  You  cannot  go.  I  cannot  spare  you,"  was  Jack- 
son's brusque  answer. 


234  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

Then  Mr.  Vernon  rose  to  his  feet  and  fixed  his 
eyes  upon  the  general. 

"General,"  he  exclaimed,  "the  young  lady  is  the 
lieutenant's  promised  wife  !  He  must  go  !" 

And  he  went. 

There  had  been  good  reason  for  the  failure  of 
General  Jackson's  messenger  to  find  Mr.  Vernon  on 
the  day  before.  Indeed,  if  he  had  found  him, 
his  message  must  have  been  delayed  ;  for  Mr.  Ver- 
non was  in  no  mood  to  be  interrupted.  He  and 
Colonel  Loring  were  having  a  memorable  interview. 

Loring  came  to  Chateau  d'Or,  where  the  master 
of  the  place  was  superintending  some  hasty  final 
touches  in  the  way  of  securing  it  against  intrusions, 
late  in  the  afternoon.  Mr.  Vernon  was  astonished 
to  see  him. 

"  Why,  what  upon  earth  !  What  are  you  doing 
here  ?"  he  ejaculated,  frowning  darkly  and  speaking 
with  infinite  impatience.  "  You  told  me  that  you 
would  not  come  back  here  again." 

"  I  never  keep  my  word,"  remarked  Loring  ;  "  it's 
too  inconvenient.  I  always  do  just  what  I  happen 
to  wish  to  do.  What  are  you  up  to  now  ?" 

Mr.  Vernon  looked  at  him  in  a  hopeless  way  ;  but 
he  did  not  answer  his  question. 

"  You'll  stay  here,  I  suppose,  and  let  the  English 
soldiers  show  such  mercy  as  they  may  to  your  fam- 
ily and  you,"  continued  Loring,  half-sneeringly. 

"  I  have  sent  my  wife  and  daughter  to  Lapin  at 
the  plantation. 

"  At  Bay  Saint  Louis  ?" 

"  No  ;  on  Bayou  Bienvenu." 


THE  SHADOWS  OF  DAEK  DAYS.         235 

"  Oh,  out  there  !  What  did  you  send  those  de- 
fenseless women  out  there  for  ?" 

"  For  safety,  in  case — " 

"  Safety,  indeed  !  Don't  you  know  that  right  up 
Bayou  Bienvenu  the  English  army  will  come  first  ?" 

"  No." 

Mr.  Vernon  looked  uneasily  at  Loring. 

"  Well,"  said  the  latter,  "  I  know  it,  and  you  had 
better  go  fetch  them  back  at  once." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?" 

Loring  laughed,  and  his  laugh  was  like  an  open 
sneer. 

"  Oh,  to  be  exact,  I  expect  to  lead  those  jolly  red- 
coats in  by  that  route." 

"  Ta  !  It  is  a  nasty  jest.  Be  serious  if  you  can. 
You  have  something  on  your  mind  to  say  to  me. 
Say  it,  please." 

"  Well,  then,  I  need  some  money." 

"  Certainly — you  always  do  ;  but  how  much  ?" 

"Ten  thousand  dollars  will  do." 

Mr.  Vernon,  who  had  been  sitting,  rose  slowly 
and  stood  up  before  Loring. 

"  I  will  not  give  you  one  cent,"  he  said,  with  the 
accent  of  finality. 

"  Yes,  you  will,  when  you  know  that  I  do  not 
mean  to  gamble  with  it  and  that  I  am  going  straight 
to  the  British,  who  will  send  me  out  of  this  country." 

"  Ta  !"  ejaculated  Mr.  Vernon. 

"  You  do  not  believe  me  ?  Well,  on  the  whole,  I 
do  not  wonder.  But  you  must  trust  me  this  time, 
at  all  hazards." 

"  I  have  said  no." 


236  THE    KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

"  To  be  sure,  but  that  was  before  you  knew  that 
you  owed  me  a  hundred-fold  the  amount." 

"Ta!" 

Loring  leaped  to  his  feet  like  a  tiger  suddenly 
aroused  to  fury  ;  but  there  was  no  particular  change 
in  the  expression  of  his  face.  His  eyelids  may  have 
drooped  a  trifle,  so  that  the  openings  through  which 
the  cold  gleam  of  his  eyes  shot  out  were  narrowed 
to  mere  slits  under  his  handsome  brows. 

"  Do  you  dream  who  I  am  ?" 

The  question  was  put  with  a  sort  of  grinding 
intonation,  and  the  speaker  snapped  his  thumb  and 
forefinger  impatiently. 

«  q>a  i" 

"  I  am  Pierre  Rameau,  and  I  want  ten  thousand 
dollars  !" 

"  I  am  Jules  Vernon,  and — " 

"Say,  rather,"  interrupted  Loring,  "that  you  are 
Thomas  MacCollough.  I  like  accuracy  in  business 
matters." 

Mr.  Vernon  glared  and  stood  speechless. 

"  I  know  your  whole  past  life,  Thomas  MacCol- 
lough, as  well  as  I  know  my  own.  You  need  not 
become  excited  in  the  least.  I  have  known  it  all 
these  years  of  our  acquaintance." 

"  I  know  your  life,  too,  from  your  cradle  to  this 
moment,"  Mr.  Vernon  presently  said  in  a  dismal 
voice  ;  "  I  have  been  told  that  your  name  is  Mac- 
Collough, too — Kirk  MacCollough." 

"  We  seem  to  be  pretty  well  acquainted,  then,  and 
possibly  we  are  kinsmen." 


THE  SHADOWS  OF  DARK  DAYS. 

Mr.  Vernon  lifted  his  hands  as  if  to  ward  off  the 
suggestion,  and  stepped  backward  a  pace. 

"  I  do  not  place  my  demand  for  the  money  on 
that  ground,  however,"  Loring  went  on  with  a 
measured,  merciless  manner  of  speech ;  "  but 
wholly  on  the  ground  that  you  are  my  debtor. 
You  have  grown  rich  in  dealing  with  Pierre 
Rameau,  and  now  that  you  know  who  that  mysteri- 
ous man  is,  you  cannot  object  to  his  demand  for 
money,  can  you  ?" 

Mr.  Vernon  tottered  to  a  chair  and  sank  into  it 
with  the  air  of  one  who  collapses  under  a  deadly 
stroke  ;  his  face  withered  ;  his  eyes  were  dull  and 
sunken.  At  that  moment  his  age  seemed  doubled. 

"  I  have  no  time.  I  am  followed,  hounded.  Two 
dogs  scent  every  track  I  make,"  Loring  continued. 
"  If  you  cannot  give  me  money,  why,  of  course,  I 
must  go  without  it.  I  have  been  a  fool,  played  in 
hard  luck,  lost  everything,  and  this  infernal  war 
has  blocked  every  channel  of  my  operations.  You 
can  feel  my  condition." 

"  What  do  I  care  fr>r  money  !"  cried  Mr.  Vernon, 
springing  up  again.  "  Take  all  I  have — it  is  noth- 
ing— so  you  go  and  never  return  !" 

"  Oh,  I  promise  that.  I  think  you  can  depend 
upon  that." 

Mr.  Vernon  gazed  at  him  with  a  look  curiously 
searching,  wistful,  hopeless.  The  cold  drops  of  a 
powerful  excitement  were  beading  the  old  man's 
forehead.  He  lifted  his  hand  and  wiped  them 
away  mechanically. 

"  Tell  me  one  thing  and  tell  me  truly,"  he  de- 


238  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

manded,  a  husky  tremor  in  his  deep  voice.  "  Tell 
me  on  your  life  :  Are  you  the  son  of  Thomas  Mac- 
Collough  ?" 

"  There's  no  time  now  for  explanations,"  said 
Loring,  evasively.  His  face  seemed  to  soften  in 
some  strange  way.  "  It  doesn't  matter  who  I  am. 
I  am  pressed.  My  life  is  at  stake.  I  cannot  par- 
ley." 

Mr.  Vernon  stepped  forward  and  laid  a  powerful 
grasp  on  the  younger  man's  shoulder..  His  fingers 
were  like  mighty  hooks  of  steel  ;  they  closed  over 
the  hard,  deltoid  muscles  with  an  almost  paralyzing 
power. 

"  Speak  to  me  !  Tell  me  !  You  shall  not  go  till 
you  do  !"  he  exclaimed,  with  the  emphasis  of  des- 
peration. 

Loring  tried  to  shake  him  off,  not  roughly  but 
firmly.  He  might  as  well  have  tried  to  push  out  a 
wall  of  the  house.  The  other  hand  closed  upon 
him,  and  he  felt  how  unequal  would  be  the  struggle 
with  the  grizzly  giant  before  him.  Indeed,  his  arms 
were  as  if  pinioned  to  his  sides. 

"  If  you  are  indeed  Thomas  MacCullough's  son," 
continued  Mr.  Vernon,  in  that  deep,  hoarse  growl, 
"  you  will  not  lie  or  evade  or  hesitate  now.  Speak, 
I  command  you  !" 

"  I  seem  to  be  rather  helpless  in  your  hold,"  said 
Loring.  "  When  you  get  tired,  let  go  of  me, 
please." 

Mr.  Vernon's  hand  fell  away,  and  he  stepped  back, 
drawing  a  deep  breath  as  one  does  who  controls 
passion  by  sheer  force. 


THE  SHADOWS  OF  DAEK  DAYS.         239 

"  Loring,"  he  said  slowly,  "  or  Pierre  Rameau,  or 
Kirk  MacCollough,  whoever  you  are,  it  is — " 

"  Stop  !"  interrupted  Loring.  "  Can  you  give  me 
the  money  or  not  ?" 

A  man-servant  at  the  door  was  parleying  with 
some  one  whose  voice  barely  reached  the  room. 
Mr.  Vernon  had  given  orders  to  admit  no  person. 

"  If  you  are  Kirk  MacCollough  I  will  give  you  the 
money,"  the  old  man  almost  whispered. 

"  I  could  lie  to  you,"  said  Loring. 

"  If  you  could,  you  are  not  he." 

Mr.  Vernon  spoke  with  a  tone  which  seemed  to 
have  years  of  reflection  and  multitudes  of  memories 
in  it. 

Loring  was  fumbling  in  the  breast  of  his  vest  as 
it  trying  to  find  something  stowed  away  in  deepest 
security  there. 

"  A  knife  or  a  pistol  will  not  serve  you,"  said  Mr 
Vernon,  with  calm  dignity. 

"  I'm  not  so  slow  when  I  reach  for  a  weapon," 
remarked  the  other  indifferently.  "  Here,  will  that 
be  a  sufficient  pledge  for  what  money  you  can  let 
me  have  ?" 

As  he  spoke  he  drew  forth  a  small  worn  leather 
case  and  handed  it  to  Mr.  Vernon,  open.  It  was  the 
amethyst  cross. 

"  That  argues  more  forcibly  than  knife  or  pistol, 
doesn't  it  ?" 

The  old  man  answered  not  a  word  ;  but  an 
intense  feeling  seemed  to  rush  into  his  face.  His 
moiith  twitched  under  his  heavy,  rimpled,  gray 
beard. 


24:0  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

At  this  moment  there  was  some  sort  of  disturb- 
ance at  the  hall-door  ;  the  servant  was  trying  to 
keep  the  visitor  from  entering. 

"  Stand  aside  !"  panted  the  voice  of  Burns. 

The  negro  stood  aside. 

Loring  turned  about,  and  quicker  than  the  gleam 
of  an  eye  was  the  drawing  of  his  pistol. 

Burns  came  into  the  room,  gliding  like  a  serpent. 

Mr.  Vernon  was  ready  for  the  emergency,  and  he 
was  prompt  and  certain  rather  than  quick.  A 
stroke  of  his  left  hand  sent  Loring's  pistol  spinning 
across  the  floor  ;  a  sweep  of  his  right  caught  Burns's 
arm  as  it  flourished  a  long  knife. 

Loring  did  not  hesitate  a  second,  but,  while  Burns 
was  struggling  to  free  his  arm,  walked  straightway 
out  of  the  house. 

In  the  effort  to  wring  the  knife  from  Burns's 
hand,  Mr.  Vernon  let  fall  the  amethyst  cross,  and  it 
tiimbled  on  the  floor,  where  it  lay,  flashing  a  fine 
purple  light. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

DESOLATION. 


Mr.  Vernon  and  Lieutenant  Ballanche  had  no 
sooner  received  General  Jackson's  permission  to 
take  a  detachment  of  men  and  go  than  they  set  out 
at  full  speed,  riding  down  to  the  plantation  house 
on  Bayon  Bienvenu. 


DESOLATION.  24:1 

Of  course,  Mr.  Vernon's  mind  was  crowded  with 
the  incidents  of  the  interview  with  Loring,  and 
almost  as  much  was  he  affected  by  the  conversation 
which  had  followed  when  he  was  left  alone  with 
old  man  Burns.  The  latter,  balked  in  his  effort  to 
stab  Loring,  and  seeing  that  Mr.  Vernon  would  not 
let  him  go  at  once  in  further  pursuit,  gave  up  and 
stood  pathetically  helpless,  gazing  in  blank,  despair- 
ing inquiry  at  the  powerful  old  man  who  had 
handled  him  as  if  he  had  been  a  child. 

"  You  assassin  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Vernon,  quite 
out  of  patience  and  temper.  "  You  attempt  to  do 
murder  in  my  house  !" 

"  '  Murder  ?'  No  !  That  man's  life  belongs  to 
any  one  who  can  take  it !  That  was  Pierre  Rameau, 
I  tell  you  !"  Burns  replied,  with  but  little  show  of 
spirit. 

He  stood  gazing  into  Mr.  Vernon's  eyes  for  a 
moment  and  then  added  : 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  what  he  did  to  me  ?  I  bore 
everything.  What  would  you  do  if  you  were  in  my 
place — if  he  had  killed  your  daughter — if  he  had 
wrecked  your  life — if  he  had  murdered  you  in  the 
woods  ?" 

"  Ta,  man  !"  said  Mr.  Vernon.  "  You  are  excited 
and  nervous.  Sit  down." 

Then  seeing  the  cross  on  the  floor,  he  stooped 
and  picked  it  up.  Turning  it  over  in  his  fingers, 
he  was  replacing  it  in  the  worn  case,  when  Burns 
reached  for  it. 

"Where  did  you  get  that?"  demanded  he,  with 
sudden,  breathless  haste.  "  Did  he  have  that  ? 


THE   KING    OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

That  is  Margaret's  !  His  mother  gave  that  to  Mar- 
garet !  Let  me  hold  it  !  Let  me  touch  it !  Let 
me  kiss  it !  Oh,  it  must  have  been  on  her  bosom 
when — " 

*'  Be  still,  man.  You  are  wild,"  said  Mr.  Vernon. 
"You  do  not  know  what  you  are  saying.  This 
thing  has  been  in  my  family  for  a  century." 

"Ah,  well,  I  thought — forgive  me — it  is  so  like  it." 

The  old  man  held  his  forehead  in  his  hands  as  if 
recovering  from  dizziness.  He  reeled,  and  Mr. 
Vernon  helped  him  into  a  chair  and  brought  some 
wine. 

"  No,  I  never  drink  it,"  he  said,  putting  aside  the 
proffered  glass. 

After  a  little  he  appeared  to  shake  off  his  weak- 
ness to  a  degree.  Rising  slowly,  he  said  not 
another  word,  but  picked  up  his  great  knife,  which 
lay  where  it  had  fallen  on  the  floor,  and  went  out. 

Mr.  Vernon  did  not  try  to  hinder  him.  The 
whole  thing  seemed  unreal,  and  the  old  man's 
going  had  no  significance  beyond  its  connection 
with  that  sense  of  inevitable  doom  which  impended 
shapeless,  vague  and  altogether  terrible,  some- 
where in  the  cloud  on  Mr.  Vernon 's  life. 

And  so,  as  they  went  riding  down  through  the 
solemn  woods  in  the  fine,  gray  rain  that  began 
to  fall,  Mr.  Vernon  scarcely  spoke  or  lifted  his 
gaze  from  the  ground  until  they  came  near  to  the 
bank  of  Bayou  Bienvenu  ;  and,  even  then,  it  was  the 
young  man  who  broke  the  silence. 

They  were  side  by  side,  a  short  way  in  advance 
of  their  little  troop,  and  the  rain  was  blowing  in 


DESOLATION.  243 

their  faces,  when  a  man  stepped  into  the  road  in 
front  of  them,  not  fifty  paces  distant.  Ballanche 
drew  up  his  horse,  at  the  same  time  touching-  Mr. 
Vernon's  arm. 

"Hold!"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  low  voice,  as  he 
reached  for  his  pistol.  "  Whom  have  we  here  !" 

The  man  held  up  his  hand  and  made  a  friendly 
sign. 

"  Ah,  it's  Peevy,"  said  the  lieutenant ;  "  one  of 
our  special  scouts.  The  English  are  not  far  away, 
I  judge,  else  he  would  not  be  here.  We  will  ride 
on  and  see  what  he  is  up  to." 

Mr.  Vernon  was  all  attention  now  ;  the  sugges- 
tion of  proximity  to  the  British  army  made  him 
think  at  once  of  his  wife  and  daughter.  The  house 
was  still  two  miles  farther  on. 

"  How  now,  Peevy  ?"  called  Ballanche,  as  soon  as 
they  came  up  to  the  scout.  "  What  do  you  know  by 
this  time  ?" 

Peevy  saluted  awkwardly  and  gazed  off  into  the 
woods  as  if  with  utmost  concern,  chewing  his  quid 
meantime  and  delivering  the  brown  juice  at  short 
intervals. 

"  I  hev'  seed  some  sign  o'  the  enemy  down  yar  a 
piece,"  he  said. 

"  Some  sign  ?  What  like  ?  Where  ?"  demanded 
Ballanche. 

"  They  air  jist  over  yar  on  the  marsh.  I  counted 
nigh  onter  two  hundred  of  'em  jes'  at  daylight  this 
mornin'." 

"  But  how  far  from  here  ?" 


244  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

"  Ez  the  crow  flies,  hit  air  three  miles  mebbe  to 
whar'  they  's  as  thick  ez  birds  in  er  pea-fiel'." 

"  Three  miles  !     In  what  direction  ?" 

Peevy  jerked  his  thumb  backward  over  his 
shoulder  to  indicate  the  point. 

"  And  are  they  moving  ?" 

"They  moved  las'  night  some." 

"  Which  way  ?    Up  the  bayou  ?" 

"  No,  jes'  er  foolin'  eround  like.  Some  of  'em  war 
down  yar  ter  this  yar  house  below  yar." 

"  What  house  ?" 

"  My  house  do  you  mean  ?" 

Mr.  Vernon  and  the  lieutenant  spoke  together, 
both  of  them  leaning  forward  as  if  about  to  throttle 
Peevy,  whose  dry,  withered  countenance  did  not 
change  its  expression. 

"  What  did  they  do  ?"  stormed  forth  Mr.  Vernon 
right  in  the  man's  face. 

"  Cut  up  Jack,  they  did  ;  kinder  cleaned  out  the 
place,  weeming  folks  an'  all  the  likes.  Lef  nothin' 
thar'  'cepting  a  lot  o'  scared  niggers  an'  er  couple  o' 
lame  mules." 

Mr.  Vernon  did  not  wait  to  hear  more,  but  drove 
his  spurs  into  his  horse.  The  nervous  animal  rushed 
away  like  a  bolt  from  some  powerful  engine,  tum- 
bling Peevy  flat  on  his  back  in  the  road. 

"  Golly  mussy  !  Land  o'  Canaan  !  Better  jes' 
onj'nt  a  feller's  mortal  frame  an'  tangle  'is  bone 
etarnally  !"  cried  the  surprised  scout,  scrambling  to 
liis  feet  and  examining  his  gun  to  see  if  it  was 
injured.  "Guess  Mary  Ann  air  not  hurt — air  ye, 
Mary  Ann  ?"  He  patted  the  long,  heavy  weapon 


DE80LATIONT  245 

as  he  spoke  to  it.  "  Ef  Mary  Ann  air  all  right,  it 
don't  mek'  no  difference  'bout  me." 

Lieutenant  Ballanche  was,  first  of  all,  a  good 
soldier,  and  although  Peevy's  communication  had 
sent  horror  through  his  soul  he  kept  his  head. 

The  detachment  headed  by  a  sergeant  reached 
the  spot  at  this  moment,  and  he  ordered  a  halt 
while  he  hastily  plied  the  scout  with  a  few  more 
questions. 

"  Do  )Tou  mean  the  house  right  ahead  on  this 
road,  two  miles  from  here  ?"  he  demanded. 

Peevy  was  busily  wiping  some  dirt  from  Mary 
Ann's  barrel  and  stock.  Without  looking  up,  he 
answered  : 

"  Thet's  jes'  w'at  I  said  ter  ye." 

The  lieutenant  motioned  the  troop  to  follow  him, 
and  set  off  almost  as  rapidly  as  Mr.  Vernon  had  ; 
but  the  scout  took  care  to  keep  out  of  the  way  this 
time  and  stood  looking  after  the  riders  till  they 
passed  out  of  sight. 

"  Well  of  all  etarnal  fools  them's  the  beatenest  'at 
I  ever  seed  !"  he  exclaimed,  still  rubbing  Mary 
Ann.  "  Ef  they  don't  watch  out,  them  air  British- 
ers '11  twist  thar  necks  for  'em  'fore  they  know  w'at's 
happened.  W'y  they  mek's  more  noise  'an  er  Penn- 
sylvany  wagon  on  er  rocky  road.  Hum  !  Well, 
Mary  Ann,  we'll  look  eroun'  er  leetle  bit  more." 

He  shouldered  his  rifle  after  repriming  it  and 
trudged  away  through  the  woods. 

Mr. Vernon  urged  his  horse  on  without  one  thought 
of  what  danger  he  might  be  speeding  to.  His  whole 
life  was  centered  in  his  wife  and  daughter.  It  was 


246  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

for  them  that  all  his  wealth  had  been  hoarded,  all 
his  plans  laid,  all  his  schemes  wrought  out.  For 
years  he  had  dealt  with  the  mysterious  Pierre  Ram- 
eau,  not  personally  and  directly,  but  through  an 
intermediate  agent,  and  in  the  meantime  had  formed 
a  close  friendship  for  Colonel  Loring,  whose  vast 
operations  in  Mexican  mines  he  had  shared,  furnish- 
ing a  large  amount  of  money  and  receiving  good 
returns  upon  the  investments.  Lately  the  truth  had 
been  coming  into  his  mind  and  he  now  knew  there 
was  no  Colonel  Loring,  no  Mexican  mines  and  no  in- 
vestments at  all  upon  which  his  receipts  had  osten- 
sibly been  based.  In  fact  it  appeared  that  Pierre 
Rameau  had  been  all  this  time  deceiving  him  and 
roistering  in  gaming-houses  and  other  places  of  in- 
iquity at  his  expense,  simply  paying  him  interest  on 
the  amounts  squandered.  He  now  saw  to  what 
his  years  of  illegal  operations  had  brought  him,  and 
he  reviewed  with  a  sickening  at  heart  the  whole  dark, 
hidden  life  that  he  had  been  living ;  but  what  was 
all  this  to  another  thought  which  since  his  several 
interviews  with  old  man  Burns  had  shaped  itself  to 
such  proportions,  that  now  it  filled  the  whole  vault 
of  consciousness  as  with  a  nebulous  horror  ?  This 
Colonel  Loring,  this  mysterious  Pierre  Rameau,  this 
man  whom  all  the  world  of  the  southwest  knew  of 
and  trembled  at  but  had  never  been  able  to  see,  had 
suddenly  become  to  him  the  embodiment  of  con- 
science and  retribution. 

And  what  was  to  be  the  end  ?  Mr.  Vernon  heard 
this  question  echoing  about  in  his  inmost  heart 
where  he  kept  his  wife  and  daughter  shrined  ? 


DESOLATION.  247 

What  was  to  be  the  end  ?  Would  they  soon  know 
what  he  knew  ?  Must  his  whole  past  life  be  un- 
masked to  them  ? 

But  they  ?  They  were  in  danger  this  moment  ! 
In  danger  !  Had  not  the  scout  said  that  they  were 
carried  away  by  a  British  detachment  ?  He  could 
not  realize  the  situation  ;  nothing  came  to  his  mind 
with  distinctness,  so  blurring  was  the  cloud  of  his 
distress. 

Ballanche  and  his  men  followed  Mr.  Vernon  as 
fast  as  they  could  ride  ;  but  did  not  overtake  him 
till  the  plantation  was  reached.  There  they  found 
it  just  as  Peevyhad  said.  The  house  was  empty 
and  silent.  A  body  of  the  enemy  had  been  there, 
both  horse  and  foot,  as  they  could  see  by  the  prints 
in  the  sandy  soil  all  around.  Most  of  the  negroes 
were  hiding  in  the  swamp  or  in  the  tall  grass  of  the 
salt  marsh  to  the  eastward. 

Mr.  Vernon  leaped  from  his  horse  and  ran  into 
the  building  ;  but  there  was  nothing  to  greet  him 
save  the  sound  of  his  own  heavy  footfalls. 

When  Lieutenant  Ballanche  came  up,  he  too 
rushed  into  the  house  and  gazed  eagerly  around  as 
he  hastened  from  room  to  room. 

An  old  negro  woman  was  found  hiding  in  a  corner 
of  the  kitchen  pantry,  whither  she  had  run  on  hear- 
ing their  approach.  From  her  they  managed  to  get 
a  pretty  complete  account  of  what  had  happened. 
It  was,  in  substance,  the  same  story  as  that  told  by 
Enos  Peevy.  The  ladies,  including  little  Lizettes 
Lapin,  had  been  carried  away  by  a  band  of  soldierf 
The  poor  old  soul  was  still  so  frightened  that  her 


248  THE  KING   OP   HONEY    ISLAND. 

eyes  rolled  white  and  wild,  and  she  stammered  so 
that  she  could  hardly  speak. 

The  rain  was  still  drizzling,  blown  along  by  a 
wind  from  Borgne  and  the  marshes.  In  every 
direction,  gray  and  dim,  the  country  stretched  out, 
with  not  a  moving  thing  in  sight  save  the  tossing 
tree-tops,  the  waving  horse-tail  grass  and  the  water- 
fowl beating  along  the  shore-lines  of  bayou  and 
lake.  It  was  a  landscape  which  might  have  well 
served  the  artist  of  loneliness. 

Mr.  Vernon  and  Lieutenant  Ballanche  went  out 
of  that  desolate  house  and  remounted  their  horses. 
There  was  nothing  left  for  them  to  do  but  to  go 
back  to  their  duty  in  the  army  of  Jackson. 

It  was  just  as  they  passed  through  the  gate  of  the 
close  that  a  shot  rang  out  sharp  and  short  down  in 
the  woods  beyond  the  road. 

Lieutenant  Ballanche  was  all  attention  at  once  ; 
he  ordered  his  men  to  fall  into  line.  Another  shot, 
and  then  a  scattering  sputter  of  musketry  followed. 
A  moment  later,  Enos  Peevy  skulked  into  view 
among  the  moss-draped  trees  some  hundred  yards 
away.  He  was  stooping  low,  trailing  his  long  rifle 
and  running  rapidly  toward  them. 

Ballanche  understood  the  situation  at  a  glance, 
and  formed  his  men  in  open  order  behind  the  fence 
that  flanked  the  road  on  one  side. 

Peevy  soon  came  up  and  stopped  behind  a  tree  to 
ram  home  a  bullet  in  his  gun.  They  saw  him 
unstop  the  power  horn  with  his  teeth  and  carefully 
fill  the  priming-pan.  Ballanche  rode  close  to  him 
and  spoke  in  a  low  tone  : 


DESOLATION.  249 

"  Where  are  they,  Peevy  ?" 

"  Don't  ye  see  'em  yonder  ?" 

"  How  many  ?" 

"  Twenty,  mebbe." 

English  uniforms  glimmered  between  the  trees 
in  the  direction  of  the  bayou. 

"  I  plugged  one  o'  'em,"  Peevy  added,  "  an'  ef 
ye  '11  watch  ye  '11  see  me  flummix  another  'n'  purty 
quick." 

"  Don't  shoot !"  ordered  the  lieutenant.  "  Come 
back  here  with  me.  Let  them  come  on." 

The  scout  obeyed  with  bad  grace,  for  he  deemed 
it  a  shame  not  to  shoot  when  an  enemy  offered  a 
fair  mark. 

He  walked  beside  the  lieutenant's  horse  and  kept 
his  keen  eyes  turned  back  to  scan  the  movements 
of  the  scattered  line  of  redcoats. 

It  was  evident  to  Ballanche  that  if  his  little 
detachment  remained  but  a  few  moments  longer 
where  it  now  was,  its  way  to  New  Orleans  would  be 
cut  off.  He  ordered  Peevy  to  mount  behind  him,  a 
thing  which  the  scout  was  very  much  opposed  to. 

"  I  feels  better  an'  safer  enter  my  feet,"  he  urged, 
"  an'  'en,  besides,  them  air  silk-stocking  fellers  can't 
ketch  me,  nohow." 

But  the  lieutenant  made  his  order  peremptory, 
and  the  lean,  skinny  rifleman  effected  the  mount 
from  the  fence-top. 

In  the  shortest  possible  time  the  little  band  was 
in  motion,  going  at  a  brisk  pace  along  the  road. 
But  the  enemy  had  seen  them,  and  already  the  thin 
red  line  over-lapped  the  way. 


250  THE    KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND, 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  make  a  dash. 

Mr.  Vernon  was  at  the  lieutenant's  side  when  the 
order  was  given.  Down  they  rode  together,  Peevy 
sticking  on  as  best  he  could,  grasping  the  saddle 
with  one  hand  and  swinging  Mary  Ann  free  in  the 
other. 

A  rattling  volley  and  a  chorus  of  shouts  greeted 
them  as  they  got  well  under  way,  and  the  bullets 
whistled  about  their  ears. 

Mr.  Vernon's  horse  was  the  fleetest  of  all,  and  so 
he  at  once  became  their  leader.  He  dashed  upon 
and  almost  over  a  group  of  three  red-coats  in  the 
middle  of  the  road.  One  of  them,  after  firing  unsuc- 
cessfully at  him,  seized  his  horse's  bridle  and  was 
dragged  down  for  his  pains. 

Ballanche,  encumbered  with  the  scout,  was  not  so 
successful  ;  Mr.  Vernon  looked  back  and  saw  him 
trying  to  use  his  sword,  while  his  horse  was  rearing 
and  plunging.  Wheeling  about  and  drawing  a  long, 
heavy  knife,  his  only  weapon  besides  his  holsters, 
he  dashed  to  the  young  officer's  rescue. 

"  Punch  'is  etarnal  eye  out  !"  Peevy  was  screech- 
ing. "  Whack  'im  on  the  nose  !  Jag  'im  inter  the 
ribs  !" 

One  of  the  English,  a  stalwart  fellow,  who  was 
unaware  of  Mr.  Vernon's  approach,  turned  just  in 
time  to  have  his  neck  almost  severed  by  a  slash  of 
that  terrible  Southern  knife.  And  just  then  the 
rest  of  the  little  detachment  reached  the  spot  and 
all  broke  through  together  without  the  loss  of  a 
man. 

"  Golly  mussy  !"   cried    Peevy.     "  This  yar's  no 


DESOLATION.  251 

decent  way  o'  fightin'!  I  can't  do  nothtn'  wi'  Mary 
Ann  an'  hoi'  on  ter  this  yar  kickin'  an*  callyvortin* 
annymil  at  the  same  time  !  Blame  sich  etarnal  fool- 
ishness I  Le'  's  go  back  an'  try  'em  over  ag'ia  a- 
stan'in'  onter  the  solid  yarth." 

But  Lieutenant  Ballanche  gave  no  heed  to  his 
grumbling.  He  knew  that  Jackson's  army  was 
moving  and  that  his  place  was  in  the  van.  His  mil- 
itary experience  told  him  that  the  English  detach- 
ment through  which  they  had  broken  was  a  party  of 
reconnaisance  and  that  the  enemy's  army  was  mov- 
ing up  the  bayou  in  force. 

"  Ye  can't  shoot  off'n  a  hoss  nohow,"  Peevy  con- 
tinued to  snarl.  "  How  kin  ye  squint  through  the 
sights  on  er  gun  bar'l,  when  the  annymil  air  a 
hi'kin'  ye  up  an'  er  drappin'  ye  down  an'  er  jigglin' 
ye  ever  so  which  way,  I'd  like  ter  know  ?  They's 
jes'  not  er  bit  o'  sense  in  the  whole  business  !  Ef 
I'd  er  been  onto  my  legs,  'stid  er  flummixin'  eround 
on  this  yar  eternal  annymil,  I'd  a  got  erbout  four  oj 
them  air  fellers  shore  es  Mary  Ann  hedn't  er 
snapped  !" 

When  they  reached  New  Orleans,  Jackson  was 
massing  most  of  his  available  forces  at  a  point  some 
miles  down  the  river,  and  all  was  excitement  in  the 
streets. 

Mr.  Vernon  met  Fairfax  on  a  corner  of  Royal 
Street,  and  without  a  moment's  hesitation  told  him 
the  terrible  news  of  the  fate  that  had  befallen  Mrs. 
Vernon,  Pauline  and  Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes. 
It  was  like  a  blow  in  the  face  to  the  young  man  ; 
he  actually  staggered  back  as  if  hard  hit. 


252  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

"  Gone  !  Taken  away  !  Pauline  in  the  hands  of 
those  brutal  soldiers  !"  he  faltered  forth,  gazing 
half  doubtingly,  half  wildly  at  Mr.  Vernon.  "  It 
can't  be  true  !  It  isn't  so,  is  it  ?  Oh,  sir,  you  are 
not  in  earnest  !" 

But  he  knew  by  the  old  man's  look  that  it  was  all 
true. 

"  Yes,  they  are  gone — gone,"  said  Mr.  Vernon, 
"  and  the  English  army  lies  between  us  and  them  !" 

Fairfax  was  as  pale  as  if  dead,  and  his  dry  lips 
would  not  move  when  he  tried  to  speak.  In  that 
moment  of  intense  concentration  of  feeling  he 
reviewed  every  happy  hour  that  he  had  ever  spent 
with  Pauline  and  recalled  every  sweet  word  that 
she  had  ever  spoken  to  him.  It  seemed  as  if  by 
some  sudden  movement  she  had  passed  from  him 
just  now,  away  to  the  farthest  bounds  of  the  world. 

"  Vernon,"  he  cried,  giving  way  for  a  brief  space 
to  a  burst  of  grief  boyish  in  its  intensity,  "  what  can 
be  done  ?" 

Mr.  Vernon  looked  at  him  very  calmly  and  said  : 

"  There  is  fighting  to  be  done." 

"  But  what — what  will  become — what  will  those 
brutes  do  in  the  meantime  ?  Are  you  sure,  Mr. 
Vernon,  that  they  were  not  there,  hidden  somewhere 
— or — " 

"  Calm  yourself,"  said  the  old  man,  interrupting 
his  passionate,  almost  incoherent  words.  "  It  is  as 
I  say.  There  is  no  hope  but  in  fighting." 

Fairfax  felt  a  chill  like  death  creep  throughout 
his  body,  numbing  and  dazing  him.  There  was 
nothing  to  say.  He  groaned  as  one  does  who  is  not 


RECOGNITION   BY   FIRE-LIGHT   AND   GUN-FLASH.       253 

conscious  of  anything  save  an  unbearable  agony  of 
soul. 

Mr.  Vernon  laid  a  heavy  hand  on  the  young  man's 
shoulder,  and  they  stood  in  silence,  while  the 
excited  people  went  past  them  to  and  fro.  The  rain 
had  ceased  and  the  western  sun  flashed  out  fitfully 
between  scudding  clouds. 

"  Where  were  you  going  ?"  Mr.  Vernon  presently 
asked. 

"  To  General  Jackson's  headquarters,"  he  an- 
swered. "The  aruiy  is  moving." 

"  We  will  go  together." 

And  arm  in  arm  they  went. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

RECOGNITION  BY  FIRE-LIGHT  AND  GUN-FLASH. 

It  was  the  afternoon  of  the  23d  of  December,  1814, 
Lieutenant  Ballanche  and  Mr.  Vernon  were  not  the 
only  friends  of  the  American  cause  who  had  seen 
the  British  soldiery  feeling  their  way  toward  New 
Orleans.  Major  Gabriel  Villere,  by  a  most  daring 
dash,  had  escaped  from  the  enemy  after  they  had 
captured  him  at  his  father's  plantation-house.  He 
brought  news  which,  added  to  what  the  scout  and 
Ballanche  reported,  confirmed  Jackson  in  the  belief 
that  a  large  army  was,  indeed,  immediately  before 
him. 


254r  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

All  was  hurry  and  excitement.  Orders  had  been 
sent  to  the  officers  of  the  various  little  divisions  of 
the  army  to  move  their  forces  at  once  down  the  east 
bank  of  the  river  and  take  position  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  Rodrigues  Canal,  a  small  flume  or  ditch  stretch- 
ing from  the  river  to  the  swamp,  an  hour's  ride  below 
the  city. 

General  Jackson,  swarthy  and  bilious,  rode  out  to 
Fort  St.  Charles  to  review  the  moving  troops.  Mr. 
Vernon  joined  him  there  and  watched,  grim  and 
silent,  while  his  own  dusky  riflemen  filed  past,  their 
picturesque  equipments  and  vivacious  features  show- 
ing in  marked  contrast  to  the  stalwart  Tennesseean 
backwoodsmen's  copperas  clothes  and  lean,  unkempt 
faces.  The  reckless  forbans  flung  up  their  chapeaux 
with  jaunty  grace  and  .saluted  the  general  with  loud 
cheering,  and  then,  catching  sight  of  Mr.  Vernon, 
they  took  up  his  name  and  redoubled  the  shout.  The 
old  man  lifted  his  hat,  and  they  saw  a  flash  of  battle 
in  his  eyes. 

"  By  the  Eternal,"  exclaimed  Jackson,  "  we  will 
make  those  redcoats  feel  us  before  morning  !  Mr. 
Vernon,  your  men  look  like  bad  fellows  to  face  in  a 
fight.  I'd  risk  my  head  on  them,  sir — risk  my 
head  !" 

"You  shall  not  be  deceived  in  them,"  said  Mr. 
Vernon,  preparing  to  join  them  in  their  march. 
"  They  will  do  whatever  I  tell  them  to." 

"  Then  tell  them,  sir,  to  make  mincemeat  of  those 
infernal  invaders  !" 

Mr.  Vernon  extended  his  hand,  and  Jackson 
.grasped  it  with  hearty  good-will. 


"RECOGNITION  BY  FIRE-LIGHT  AND  GUN-FLASH.     255 

Near  by,  on  a.  tall,  gray  horse,  sat  that  strange 
genius,  Edward  Livingston,  looking  on  with  keen 
interest.  He  was  Jackson's  other  self,  his  untiring 
and  all-seeing  friend  and  counselor.  It  was  he  who 
said  to  the  commander,  as  Mr.  Vernon  rode  away  : 

"  There  goes  the  king  of  all  the  outlaws,  the  mas- 
ter of  the  Barratarians,  the  Chats-Huants  and  the 
pirates  of  Honey  Island.  But  for  him  they  would 
have  all  been  against  us." 

"  King  or  devil,"  said  Jackson,  following  with  his 
eyes  the  grand  figure  of  the  old  man  as  he  galloped 
along  the  marching  column  to  its  head,  "he  is 
superb.  He  is  magnetic.  He  fascinates  me.  There 
is  something  great  in  him." 

Livingston  smiled  thoughtfully  ;  for  he  himself 
was  a  friend  of  Lafittes  and  the  defender  of  the  free- 
booters. He  had  had  great  trouble  at  first  getting 
Jackson's  consent  to  permit  any  of  them  to  join  the 
army  ;  but  what  was  his  influence,  or  even  that  of 
Lafitte,  in  comparison  with  Mr.  Vernon's  ?  He 
knew  far  more  than  he  dared  to  tell  the  general  ; 
but  at  this  moment  of  enthusiasm  he  could  not  for- 
bear remarking,  as  Dacquin's  colored  men  and 
Dominique's  clouted  smugglers  from  the  water- 
huts  of  Barrataria  went  dashing  by  : 

"  I  told  you  this,  general.  Set  devils  to  fight  the 
devil." 

"  But  that  man  Vernon  is  a  gentleman,  sir !" 
exclaimed  Jackson  impetuously,  "  he's  no  pirate  !" 

"  Oh,  of  course  not.  You  are  right,"  replied  the 
diplomatic  Livingston,  whose  memory  held  on  its 
leaves  the  inscriptions  of  Burr  and  Rameau  and  all 


256  THE   KING   OF   HONEY  ISLAND. 

the  other  great  criminals  who  had  made  New 
Orleans  their  home  or  their  calling-point.  "  You 
read  men  like  print,  general." 

Somehow,  flattery,  no  matter  how  bald  and  ob- 
vious, was  welcome  to  Jackson  when  it  came  from 
the  lips  of  this  brilliant  and  engaging  citizen  whom 
he  had  attached  to  his  staff. 

Fairfax  had  been  assigned  to  duty  with  General 
Coffee,  and  was  already  far  on  the  way  to  the  Rod- 
rigues  Canal. 

When  all  the  troop  had  passed,  Jackson  turned  to 
Davezac,  another  of  his  citizen  aids,  and  said,  while 
his  sunken,  jaundiced  face  glowed  with  almost 
startling  passion  : 

"  We  are  invincible,  sir,  absolutely  invincible  ! 
We  will  drive  those  redcoats  into  the  gulf  !" 

And  now  he  signaled  to  all  the  group  and  said  : 

"  Come  on  !     Come  on  !     We  will  smash  them  !" 

Away  they  went  at  a  gallop,  following  the  well- 
beaten  road  taken  by  the  troops. 

Mr.  Vernon  reached  the  neighborhood  of  the  Vil- 
Ier6  plantation  before  sundown,  and  by  the  time 
that  General  Jackson  and  his  staff  had  arrived,  he 
had  formed  a  plan  for  a  reconnaissance  of  the 
enemy's  lines  ;  a  plan  which,  when  presented  to  the 
commander,  was  accepted  at  once.  He  was  allowed 
to  choose  fifty  mounted  men,  some  of  them  well 
acquainted  with  the  country,  and  make  a  bold  ride 
right  down  through  the  British  pickets. 

He  was  successful ;  and  what  he  did  had  in  it  a 
fine  smack  of  the  old  time  and  the  knightly.  The 
invaders  had  flung  out  a  weak  line  of  pickets,  and 


RECOGNITION   BY   FIRE-LIGHT  AND   GUN-FLASH.       257 

upon  one  of  these  the  horsemen  cast  themselves  at 
headlong  speed.  Close  by  Mr.  Vernon's  side  rode 
Vasseur,  mounted  on  a  wiry  little  Creole  pony. 
There,  too,  young  Louis  Livingston,  son  of  Edward? 
smooth-faced  and  boyish,  dashed  along  eager  for  the 
most  dangerous  adventure. 

It  was  growing  dark,  and  a  thin  fog  was  creeping 
across  from  the  marshes  of  Borgne  ;  the  lights  of  the 
British  camp-fires  flared  and  flickered  in  a  zigzag 
line  from  the  river  on  the  west  to  the  dark  swamp 
on  the  east.  Mr.  Vernon  was  familiar  with  every 
feature  of  the  country,  and  there  was  one  with  him 
who  knew  just  how  to  find  the  rustic  bridges  over 
the  ditches  and  how  to  avoid  the  many  miry  sloughs 
wherein  the  horses  would  have  stuck  fast.  So  they 
rode  in  a  line  which  was  a  parabola,  the  longer  part 
of  the  curve  skirting  the  swamp  while  the  shorter 
touched  the  river  levee. 

The  pony  was  shot  dead  under  Vasseur,  but  this 
scarcely  caused  a  pause  in  the  rush.  Mr.  Vernon 
stooped  and  swung  the  little  man  up  behind  him. 
A  little  farther  on,  down  went  Louis  Livingston's 
horse.  The  nimble  youth  was  taken  care  of  by  one 
of  his  fellows  in  imitation  of  the  leader. 

At  about  the  point  where  they  reached  the  deep- 
est swing  of  their  charge  they  dashed  almost  over  a 
party  of  officers  taking  tea  by  a  fire.  Mr.  Vernon 
was  still  ahead  of  all  the  rest  and  Vasseur  was  cling- 
ing to  him  like  a  leech. 

The  group  of  surprised  and  startled  Englishmen 
at  the  fire  sprang  up  and  reached  wildly  for  their 
arms  ;  but  galloping  over  the  soft,  sandy  soil  the 


258  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

horses  made  scarcely  any  noise,  and  the  riders 
were  upon  them  before  they  could  prepare  for 
defense.  One  of  them,  however,  was  quick,  cool 
and  ready.  He  leaped  forward  and  fired  a  pistol 
just  after  Mr.  Vernon  had  passed.  His  aim  was 
deadly  ;  a  young  Creole  threw  up  his  hands  and 
tumbled  from  his  saddle. 

Vasseur  clutched  Mr.  Vernon,  and  cried  out  : 

"  Pierre  Rameau  !     That  was  Pierre  Rameau  !" 

There  was  a  rush  of  charging  men  and  a  volley 
of  musketry  from  behind  a  tangle  of  low  trees. 
Bullets  sang  past,  but  not  a  horse  or  rider  was  hit. 
The  movement  opened  a  view  of  the  enemy's  line 
at  this  point  and  showed  that  it  was  strong. 

"  Did  you  see  Pierre  Rameau  ?  Did  you  see  Col- 
onel Loring  ?"  Vasseur  kept  repeating,  from  his  seat 
behind  Mr.  Vernon. 

The  old  man  made  no  answer  to  the  questions  ; 
but  they  did  not  fail  to  reach  his  ears.  He  had 
used  his  eyes  with  as  much  effect  as  had  Vasseur 
and  had  seen  by  the  red  flare  of  the  fire  the  tall 
form  and  perfectly  calm  face  of  Loring. 

It  was  impossible  to  stop  or  turn  back  ;  the  fate 
of  Jackson's  army,  the  fate  of  New  Orleans  might  be 
depending  on  the  success  of  this  reconnaissance. 

Meantime  General  Jackson  was  perfecting  his 
line  of  battle  and  preparing  for  an  advance  upon 
the  enemy.  Livingston  was  at  his  side  all  the  time 
and  more  than  once  remarked  that  when  Mr.  Ver- 
non returned  with  his  report  the  whole  plan  of 
attack  might  have  to  be  changed.  They  heard  the 
firing,  and  Jackson  looked  uneasy. 


RECOGNITION    BY    FIRE-LIGHT  AND   GUN-FLASH.       259 

"  Don't  fear,  general,"  said  Livingston,  "  they  will 
not  capture  Vernon  ;  he  knows  what  he's  about  I 
assure  you." 

"  Well,  we  shall  have  to  wait  till  he  gets  back." 

The  wait  was  not  long.  Mr.  Vernon  with  Vasseur 
still  clinging  on  at  the  crupper  came  straight  to  the 
spot.  Jackson,  who  at  the  time  was  not  mounted, 
leaned  on  the  sweating  neck  of  the  old  man's  horse 
and  heard  the  story  of  what  had  been  seen  along  the 
British  front. 

"  We  must  turn  their  right  flank,"  Mr.  Vernon 
added,  after  giving  a  rapid  report.  "  We  must  drive 
them  toward  the  river." 

"  Zat  Pierre  Rameau,  zat  Colonel  Loring  vat  pull 
yo'  nose,  he  is  over  zare,  mo'sieu  le  general !"  cried 
Vasseur,  jumping  nimbly  and  lightly  to  the  ground. 
"  I  see  'eem  zare,  zat  colonel,  yah,  sare  !" 

He  skipped  around  like  a  jay,  his  gesticulations 
coming  in  the  proportion  of  about  three  to  a 
word. 

"Yah,  sare,  'ee  pull  yo'  nose  an'  slap  yo'  an'  zen 
'ee  go  to  ze  Anglais  an'  shoot  at  us  !" 

He  knew  that  Jackson  could  not  understand 
French  ;  therefore  his  effort  to  make  himself  plain 
in  English. 

"  Shut  your  mouth  or  I'll  smash  it !"  was  all  the 
notice  that  the  general  gave  to  him. 

"  Go  to  your  place  with  Major  Dacquin  !"  Mr. 
Vernon  ordered,  and  Vasseur  went. 

"  We  had  been  planning,"  said  Jackson,  "  and  your 
suggestion  is  just  what  we  were  agreeing  upon  when 
you  arrived.  Your  men  are  just  to  the  left  of  us 


260  THE   KING   OF    HONEY    ISLAND. 

here.  When  you  hear  the  guns  of  the  Carolina  out 
there  in  the  river,  march  straight  to  the  British 
lines.  General  Coffee  is  on  our  extreme  left.  He 
will  turn  the  enemy's  flank  and  drive  them  toward 
the  river.  You  know  your  men.  You  know  what 
to  do  when  you  find  the  redcoats.  Blow  'em  sky- 
high,  sir — sky-high  !" 

Just  before  going  to  the  place  assigned  to  him, 
Mr.  Vernon  stooped  from  his  saddle  and,  speaking 
low  in  General  Jackson's  ear,  said  : 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  refused  to  have  anything  to 
do  with  Colonel  Loring.  I  was  wrong  in  urging  his 
claim.  You  were  right  in  your  estimate." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Jackson,  with  vigorous  prompt- 
ness, "  he's  an  infernal  villain,  a  scoundrel  and  a 
traitor — cut-throat  !  I'm  amazed  that  you —  But 
let's  talk  no  more.  Go  at  the  enemy  and  give  them 
the  devil  !  Remember  the  signal — the  guns  of  the 
Carolina.  Good  luck,  sir." 

It  was  a  ghostly  night.  The  moon  had  risen,  but 
it  could  not  shine  through  the  fog  that  momentarily 
thickened  after  the  sun  went  down.  Some  trouble 
was  had  in  forming  the  line,  owing  to  the  awkward- 
ness and  nervousness  of  the  undisciplined  troops  ; 
and  this  battle  turned  out  to  be,  as  every  one  knows, 
a  wild  confusion  of  hand-to-hand  combats  between 
straggling  bands  of  both  armies. 

A  signal-shot  and  then  a  whole  broadside  from  the 
Carolina  set  the  little,  ill-formed  line  into  motion 
just  as  a  flight  of  flaming  rockets  lit  up  the  whole 
British  front. 

Mr.  Vernon   had  reported   the  ground  as   quite 


RECOGNITION   BY    FIRE-LIGHT   AND   GUN-FLASH.       261 

unfavorable  to  cavalry  operations,  and  so  all  the 
riders  were  dismounted.  Even  the  officers  set  out 
upon  that  strange  night-attack  on  foot,  plashing 
through  the  mire  and  tumbling  waist-deep  into 
ditches,  leading  their  men  amid  the  darkness  and 
fog,  often  utterly  ignorant  of  the  points  of  direction 
and  unable  to  distinguish  friend  from  foe.  It  was 
an  enthusiastic,  harum-scarum  rush  from  the  outset, 
each  little  division  anxious  to  be  the  first  to  fire  at 
the  enemy. 

General  Coffee  took  Fairfax  near  him,  and  soon 
saw  that  he  had  made  no  mistake  in  doing  it.  If 
ever  a  man  is  a  good  soldier,  it  is  when  there  is  an. 
object  for  him  behind  the  enemy's  lines.  We  are 
all  selfish  to  this  degree  :  the  personal  appeal  is  the 
strongest  appeal.  It  was  as  lover  bereft  of  his  sweet- 
heart more  than  as  patriot  risking  all  for  his  country 
that  Fairfax  rode  on  through  the  fog  along  the  skirt 
of  that  awful  swamp  and  into  the  first  strong  out- 
post of  the  British  line. 

General  Coffee  was  almost  a  giant  in  stature  and 
as  brave  and  daring  as  a  lion.  He  and  Fairfax  were 
side  by  side  when  they  approached  the  enemy  near 
the  house  of  General  Villere.  Here  were  some  or- 
chards of  orange  trees  and  some  clusters  of  negro- 
huts  inclosed  by  board  fences.  The  firing  began  in 
a  scattering  line  that  zigzagged  from  the  edge  of 
the  swamp  across  to  the  levee  at  the  river,  and  was 
traceable  only  by  the  spurts  of  flame  from  musket 
and  rifle  and  by  the  broad  flashes  from  some  field- 
guns  that  had  been  trundled  along  apace  with  the 
infantry. 


2f)2  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

So  soon  as  Coffee  felt  that  he  had  passed  the  Brit- 
ish right  flank,  he  wheeled  to  the  right  and  charged 
toward  the  river,  carrying  everything  before  him, 
until  he  reached  a  piece  of  levee  behind  which  the 
enemy  had  formed  in  strong  force.  Here  he  called 
a  halt  and  fell  back  a  space,  as  he  found  the  position 
too  well  taken  for  him  to  risk  attempting  to  storm  it. 

"  Hurry  to  General  Jackson  and  bring  me  his 
orders,"  he  said  to  Fairfax  ;  and  he  gave  the  same 
order  to  two  other  temporary  aids,  each  of  which 
was  told  to  take  a  different  direction  from  that 
pointed  out  to  Fairfax  ;  for,  in  the  darkness  and 
fog,  no  one  was  sure  of  the  compass. 

Thinking  of  Pauline,  the  lover  stumbled  away  on 
his  mission,  trying  his  best  to  keep  the  course  indi- 
cated by  the  general.  Deprived  for  the  time  of  the 
light  of  his  companion's  guns,  as  he  ran  everything 
seemed  to  come  into  his  way.  He  bumped  against 
trees,  fell  over  fragments  of  fences,  stepped  into 
oozy  ditches,  struggled  through  prickly  clumps  of 
bushes  and  tore  his  clothes  on  the  brush  of  fallen 
tree-tops. 

A  sword,  and  it  a  clumsy  affair,  was  now  his  only 
weapon.  This  he  carried  naked  in  his  hand,  having 
thrown  away  the  belt  and  scabbard  because  they 
hindered  him. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  there  was  firing  in  every 
direction,  north,  south,  east  and  west.  Field-pieces 
here,  musketry  yonder,  the  heavy  thunder  of  the 
vessel's  guns  to  his  left-oblique,  and  all  around  the 
keen  "  pang,  pang,"  of  the  well-known  woodsmen's 
rifles. 


RECOGNITION   BY   FIKE-LIGHT   AND   GUN-FLASH.      263 

He  pushed  on  as  best  he  could,  guessing  his 
direction  by  what  he  knew  of  the  position  of  the 
Caroline  and  of  the  probable  whereabouts  of  Jackson 
in  reference  thereto,  and,  before  long,  he  found 
himself  in  a  focus  of  converging  bullets.  The  mis- 
siles swarmed  past  him  like  fretful  bees.  Then 
there  was  a  rush  with  loud  yelling,  and  he  was  in 
the  midst  of  a  rough-and-tumble  fight,  where  guns 
were  clubbed,  knives  flashed  and  swords  clinked 
savagely.  He  tried  to  fall  in  with  his  friends  and 
take  part  in  their  behalf,  but  the  struggle  shifted 
the  combatants  so  suddenly  that  before  he  could  do 
anything  he  was  surrounded  by  men  wearing  the 
uniform  of  the  enemy.  This  he  quickly  noted  by 
the  flash  of  a  rocket  which  fell,  still  burning,  not 
far  away. 

Luckily,  none  of  the  excited  and  rushing  British 
soldiers  appeared  to  recognize  his  uniform.  He 
was  hastening  to  reach  the  cover  of  a  hedge  of 
bushes  growing  in  an  ill-kept  fence-row,  and  had 
nearly  reached  it,  when  a  tall  man  faced  him  and 
called  out  : 

"  Halt !     Where  do  you  belong  ?" 

In  the  darkness,  Fairfax,  of  course,  could  not 
make  out  the  challenger's  features  ;  but  the  voice 
had  a  familiar  sound,  though  his  memory  of  it  was 
not  at  the  moment  certain.  He  knew  that  he  must 
answer  instantly,  and  he  did. 

"  I  am  Fairfax,  of  General  Coffee's  staff,"  said  he. 

"  Then  surrender  !"  came  the  short,  stern  com- 
mand. 

Fairfax  responded  with  a  sword-stroke  as  he  leaped 


264:  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

toward  his  would-be  captor.  He  was  deceived  by 
the  fog  and  the  night's  blackness,  and  so  missed  his 
point  and  his  blade  cut  only  the  air.  This  threw 
him  around  just  in  time  to  disconcert  the  other's 
aim,  which  else  had  been  deadly. 

The  flash  and  report  of  a  pistol  came  together  on 
the  moment.  By  that  instantaneous  glare  Fairfax 
saw  the  dark,  cool  face  of  his  antagonist. 

It  was  the  face  of  Pierre  Rameau,  the  face  of  Col- 
onel Loring,  who  was  replacing  his  pistol  in  his  belt 
and  drawing  his  sword. 

The  two  men  went  toward  each  other  ;  the  thought 
of  capture  or  surrender  was  vanished  ;  for  recogni- 
tion had  been  mutual,  and  both  felt  a  deadly  hatred 
taking  the  place  of  mere  soldierly  animosity. 

It  would  have  gone  ill  with  Fairfax,  skillful  fencer 
though  he  was,  it  the  combat  had  been  permitted  to 
pass  on  to  the  end  ;  but  their  swords  never  crossed. 
A  heavy  cannot-shot  struck  the  ground  between 
them  and  buried  itself.  Loring  sprang  away,  think- 
ing it  a  shell  that  would  explode. 

Fairfax  took  advantage  of  the  moment  and  jumped 
through  the  line  of  weeds  and  bushes.  It  was  not  a 
heroic  way  of  escaping  from  an  unequal  fight  ;  but 
he  did  not  think  of  this.  Like  a  flash  it  had  come 
into  his  mind  that  the  fate  of  the  American  army 
might  depend  upon  his  finding  General  Jackson. 
The  fall  of  the  cannon-shot  had  reminded  him  that 
he  was  in  a  battle,  not  in  a  personal  conflict. 

On  he  ran  till  at  last  he  came  to  some  of  Major 
Planch6's  men  whom  he  knew.  They  had  a  torch 
and  were  working  heroically  to  assist  a  party  of 


RECOGNITION    BY    FIRE-LIGHT   AND    GUN-FLASH. 

artillerymen  in  getting  a  gun  out  of  a  little  bog 
where  its  wheels  had  mired. 

Just  then  General  Jackson  himself  came  up  and 
exclaimed : 

"  By  the  Eternal,  men,  save  that  gun  !" 

Fairfax  leaped  into  the  mud  and  set  his  shoulder 
into  the  strain.  It  was  as  if  Jackson's  appeal  had 
given  new  strength  to  all.  Out  came  the  gun,  and 
was  soon  again  in  working  order. 

The  gun  was  quickly  wheeled  into  position  and 
began  bellowing  away,  its  balls  bumping  and  thump- 
ing and  crashing  among  some  negro  cabins  not  far 
off. 

A  party  of  the  enemy,  guided  by  the  flash,  ran  up 
to  within  short  musket  range  and  fired  a  heavy 
volley.  The  gunner  fell  dead. 

"  Stand  by  that  cannon,  men  !  Stand  firm  !  Give 
it  to  'em  !"  stormed  Jackson. 

Fairfax  sprang  to  the  piece  and  took  the  dead 
gunner's  place. 

Then  came  another  and  heavier  volley.  A  bullet 
hit  him  hard  in  the  breast,  but  he  fired  the  gun, 
now  loaded  to  the  muzzle  with  grape.  It  was  a 
destructive  shot.  By  merest  chance,  the  storm  of 
missiles  went  straight  to  the  light  board-fence 
behind  which  the  British  were  massed  and  swept 
them  away  almost  to  a  man. 

In  the  space  of  silence  that  followed,  Fairfax 
reeled,  groaned  and  fell  across  the  gun. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

A    TENDER   NURSE. 

Fairfax  returned  to  consciousness  after  twelve 
hours  of  insensibility,  and  found  himself  in  a  beau- 
tifully furnished  bedroom.  There  were  bandages 
around  his  body,  and  his  head  was  deep-sunk  in  a 
luxurious  pillow.  Around  the  pale-blue  tester  on 
the  tall,  heavily  carved  bed-posts  clung  a  festoon  of 
the  most  delicate  and  costly  lace.  The  linen  that 
covered  him  was  fine,  soft,  fragrant,  and  on  the 
walls  of  the  chamber  hung  tapestries  from  ceiling 
to  floor.  A  mahogany  dressing-case,  tall,  slender, 
dark,  with  attenuated  carved  legs  and  claw-feet, 
stood  across  one  corner,  and  opposite  to  it  a  narrow 
cheval  glass,  framed  in  gold,  was  flanked  by  curi- 
ous dog-eared  vases  filled  with  roses. 

The  windows  of  the  room  were  large  and  cut  into 
minute  square  panes  by  heavy  oak  mullions  that 
showed  darkly  through  the  close  folds  of  the  lace 
curtains.  A  beautiful  old  picture  of  Mary  and  the 
Christ  child  hung  low  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and 
close  to  the  painting  stood  a  quaint  little  blue  cush- 
[266] 


A   TENDER   NURSE,  267 

ioned  priectieu,  upon  which  lay  a  crucifix  of  ivory 
and  gold. 

On  the  dressing-case  were  various  things  sugges- 
tive of  feminine  needs  and  tastes — a  gold  thimble,  a 
brass  jewel-case  finely  decorated  and  surmounted 
by  a  sleeping  Pan,  a  curious  tortoise-shell  comb, 
a  fan  of  ebony  and  heron-plumes,  a  pair  of  wee 
gloves  and  a  silver  tray  full  of  gay  floss,  scraps  of 
embroidery  silk  and  a  pair  of  scissors. 

The  instant  that  Fairfax  moved,  a  small,  hump- 
backed man — Crapaud  Crapoussin,  in  fact — arose 
from  a  low  chair  and  slipped  noiselessly  out  of  the 
room.  In  a  moment,  he  returned,  following  a 
Petite  brunette,  whose  face  was  saintly  in  its  beauty. 
She  was  young,  delicate,  graceful,  and  the  dead- 
black  of  her  dress  contrasted  strangely  with  the 
soft,  rose-like  underglow  of  her  cheeks  and  the 
bright  flush  of  her  ruby  lips.  Her  hair,  black  and 
wavy,  was  simply  done  in  a  Greek  knot,  and  it 
crinkled  with  charming  effect  around  her  low  fore- 
head. 

She  came  straightway  to  the  young  man's  bedside 
and  stood  there,  looking  down  into  his  face,  a  rare 
smile  on  her  half-parting  lips,  her  head  bent  a  little, 
and  her  dark  eyes  beaming  softly  with  tender 
inquiry. 

Crapaud  slunk  down  again  into  his  chair  with  a 
peculiar  celerity  and  resumed  reading  a  French 
novel  bound  in  black  leather.  He  had  been  a 
great  admirer  of  Fairfax  ever  since  the  night  when 
the  young  man  rescued  him  from  his  burly  antagon- 
ist in  the  street,  and  it  was  he  who  had  asked  the 


268  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

privilege  of  bringing  Fairfax  to  New  Orleans  when 
it  was  found  that  he  was  badly  wounded.  Crapaud 
had  volunteered  as  a  soldier  in  Planche's  battalion 
and  had  fought  like  a  demon  in  the  battle  of  the  23d. 
Dwarf  though  he  was,  he  could  shoot  well,  and  he 
was  as  courageous  as  Jackson  himself. 

"  Oh,  you  are  awake  !  You  have  slept  so  well !" 
said  the  young  woman,  smoothing  the  snowy  bed- 
clothes as  she  spoke. 

On  her  tiny  hands  were  rubies  and  emeralds  and 
diamonds  ;  at  her  throat  an  enormous  pearl  shim- 
mered all  alone. 

"  You  feel  refreshed,  don't  you  ?  Ah,  to  be  sure 
you  do  ;  and  you  are  hungry.  I  will  give  you  some- 
thing good. " 

Her  voice  was  so  tender,  so  sweet,  so  soothing.  It 
was  the  voice  of  a  French  creole  speaking  good 
English,  but  with  an  indescribable  sub-accent  en- 
gaging as  it  was  strange  and  soft. 

Fairfax  looked  steadily  at  her,  but  for  a  while  did 
not  speak. 

*'  Some  soup  with  a  little  brandy,"  she  went  on  to 
say  ;  "  that  will  be  nice  for  you.  Go,  Monsieur 
Crapoussin,  and  tell  Felice  to  bring  it." 

Crapaud  slipped  away  through  the  door  in  noise- 
less haste. 

"You  are  so  kind,  mademoiselle,"  Fairfax  pres- 
ently found  tongue  to  say,  "  so  very  good.  Where 
am  I  ?  What  is  the  matter  with  me  ?" 

He  was  half  beginning  to  remember  the  battle. 

"  Sh-h-h  !"  she  exclaimed.  "  You  must  not  speak; 
the  doctor  said  so,  and  he  knows.  I  will  talk  for 


A   TENDER   NTJRSB.  269 

both  of  us.  You  are  not  so  badly  hurt ;  you  just 
need  to  keep  quiet  for  a  few  days,  and  then  you'll 
be  all  right,  the  doctor  says.  Sh-h-h  !  Don't  try  to 
speak." 

The  tapering,  perfectly  modeled  finger  that  she 
touched  her  lip  with  had  on  it  a  superb  sapphire. 

Crapaud  came  in  after  a  while,  followed  by  a  ser- 
vant with  a  tray,  on  which  steamed  a  bowl  of  broth 
beside  a  small  bottle  of  brandy. 

Fairfax  could  not  move  ;  indeed,  he  felt  no  incli- 
nation to  ;  nor  was  he  yet  quite  aware  of  what  had 
happened  to  him.  The  young  woman  fed  a  few 
spoonfuls  of  the  warm  liquid  and  prattled  to  him  the 
while.  Crapaud  was  deep  into  the  book  again. 

"  The  surgeon  says  your  wound  is  really  not  a  bad 
one,"  said  she  ;  "  the  ball  only  tore  the  muscles  a 
little  and  did  not  touch  your  lung.  But  you  must 
not  speak  to-day." 

When  she  had  given  him  enough  to  eat,  she  sent 
the  servant  out  with  the  tray  and  sat  down  beside 
him. 

"  The  general  says  that  you  fired  the  gun  that 
turned  the  tide  of  the  fight.  Isn't  it  glorious  to  be 
wounded  when  that  is  said  about  you  ?  No,  no  ; 
don't  try  to  answer.  I'm  to  do  the  talking.  I'm  so 
proud  to  have  you  in  my  house  and  to  have  the 
honor  of  nursing  you.  I  wish  I  were  a  man  !  Oh, 
how  I  would  fight !" 

Fairfax  remembered  everything  now.  The  cir- 
cumstances of  the  past  few  days  came  back  to  him 
all  at  once,  and  with  a  cold  shiver  he  thought  of 


270  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

Pauline,  a  prisoner  in  the  British  camp.  He  closed 
his  eyes  and  groaned. 

"  There,  now,  don't.  You  must  bear  up  and  be 
strong,"  spoke  up  the  sweet-voiced  little  lady,  rising 
and  bending  over  him.  She  laid  a  cool,  soft  hand 
on  his  forehead  and  smoothed  back  the  tumbled, 
brown  hair.  The  touch  was  electrical  and  soothing. 
"  You  are  my  patient,  and  I  am  to  make  you  well," 
she  continued.  "The  doctor  has  gone  down  to  the 
army  ;  all  the  men  who  are  not  too  old  are  gone  ; 
we  women  have  to  take  care  of  the  city  and  the 
wounded  ;  we  are  making  clothes  for  the  men,  mak- 
ing bandages,  cooking  food  and  sending  it  down  to 
them.  They  are  brave,  brave  men  and  will  never 
let  those  English  come  here." 

She  stroked  his  temples  and  forehead  until  he 
dropped  asleep  again.  For  a  good  while  she  stood 
gazing  at  his  pale,  handsome,  half-boyish  face,  then 
turning  to  Crapaud,  said  : 

"  Watch  him  all  the  time,  and  if  he  needs  me  come 
for  me." 

As  she  turned  to  go  out  of  the  room  she  paused 
before  the  cheval  glass  and  looked  into  it  over  her 
shoulder.  It  was  a  quick,  bird-like,  comprehensive 
glance.  She  smiled,  gave  a  little  satisfied  sigh, 
turned  her  eyes  once  more  to  the  bed  and,  shaking 
her  jeweled  finger  at  Crapaud  to  signify  that  he 
must  be  watchful,  went  out, 

Crapaud  read  on  and  on,  now  and  again  looking 
up  when  Fairfax  drew  a  deeper  breath  than  usual. 
The  novel  was  one  of  mystery  and  adventure  that 
stirred  the  hunchback's  blood  and  set  his  imagina- 


A   TENDER    NURSE.  271 

tion  into  ecstasy.  When  it  was  read  he  flung  it  on 
the  cushion  of  \\iQpriedieu  where  it  lay  an  hour  later 
when  the  young  woman  returned. 

She  noticed  it  immediately  and  snatched  it  off 
with  a  chirruping  cry  of  disapproval. 

"  A  romance  there  !"  she  exclaimed,  with  the 
peculiar  rising  inflection  of  the  upper-class  Creoles. 
"  Why  did  you  put  it  there  ?  A  novel  on  my  cruci- 
fix and  the  Holy  Mother  looking  down  !" 

Her  little  flurry  disturbed  Fairfax. 

"  Sh-sh-h-h  !"  she  hissed  at  Crapaud,  who  had 
not  so  much  as  breathed  aloud.  "  You'll  wake 
him  !" 

The  book  was  placed  on  the  dressing-case  ;  then 
she  went  to  the  bed  and  bent  over  the  sleeper  just 
as  he  opened  his  eyes. 

'•  Pauline,"  he  murmured,  gazing  wistfully, "  Paul- 
ine, where  are  you  ?" 

"  There,  now,  be  still,"  she  said  coaxingly,  strok- 
ing his  forehead  until  he  again  fell  away  into  sleep. 

"  Crapaud,"  she  presently  spoke  up,  turning  to 
the  dwarf  with  sudden  inquiry,  "  that's  his  sister's 
name,  eh  ?  Pauline  is  his  sister,  isn't  she  ?" 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle — " 

"  No — say,  '  madame,'  sir,  say  '  madame  '  to  me  !" 

"  Yes,  madame,  his  sister,  a  beautiful  young  lady, 
that  Pauline." 

Crapaud  had  no  particular  object  in  telling  this 
lie  ;  it  came  to  him  promptly,  spontaneously,  just 
as  his  breath  came  and  went  forth  and  just  as 
lightly. 

"  And  she  loves  him  very  much,  doesn't  she  ?" 


272  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

"  Yes,  madame,  it  is  a  beautiful  love  that  sister 
has  for  him,  very  beautiful." 

"  And  he  loves  her  the  same  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  madame." 

She  clasped  her  little  hands,  keeping1  outermost 
the  one  bearing  the  richest  jewels,  and  turning  her 
head  to  one  side,  looked  admiringly  at  the  wounded 
man's  face. 

"  Is  she  like  her  brother,  Crapaud  ?" 

"  Very  like  him,  madame." 

"  How  beautiful  she  must  be,  Crapaud,  how  very 
beautiful  !" 

An  underglow  showed  in  her  dark  cheeks. 

"What  did  you  say  his  name  is  ?" 

"Fairfax,  madame." 

"  Ah,  a  fine  name.  I  knew  he  was  an  American. 
Is  he  a  good  Catholic,  Crapaud  ?" 

"  Oh,  madame,  the  most  devout  that  you  ever 
saw,"  lied  Crapaud. 

She  gave  the  bed-coverings  some  dainty  touches 
and  went  out  of  the  room,  singing  under  her  breath 
a  snatch  of  old  French  song.     It  was  not  a  church 
song. 

The  next  day  Fairfax  was  feverish  and  sleepless  ; 
his  wound  had  inflamed  a  trifle. 

"Crapaud,"  he  inquired  quickly,  "who  is  this 
young  woman  who  is  so  good  to  me  ?" 

"  It  is  Madame  Souvestre,  monsieur." 

"  This  is  her  house  ?" 

"  Yes.    She  is  a  widow.     She  is  very  rich." 

"  How  came  I  here  ?" 

Crapaud  told  him  all. 


A   TENDER   NURSE.  273 

"But  you  must  not  talk,  Monsieur  Fairfax,"  he 
added.  "  She  forbids  it" 

"  Tell  me,  Crapaud,"  the  young  man  persisted, 
paying  no  heed  to  the  prohibitory  command,  "  have 
you  heard  anything  from — " 

"  The  young  lady — Mademoiselle  Vernon  ?  Oh, 
yes !  I  have  heard.  She's  safe.  She's  at  home. 
She  came  back.  Oh,  yes  !" 

Of  course,  he  was  glibly  lying  again.  He  had 
heard  Fairfax  talking  in  the  half-delirium  of  his 
sleep  and  had  made  out  his  secret.  He  thought  it 
would  please  him  to  be  told  that  his  sweetheart  was 
safe  at  home. 

It  seemed  easier  for  Fairfax  to  converse  in  Eng- 
lish, so  Crapaud  drew  upon  his  limited  vocabulary 
in  that  language. 

"  Yah,  sah,  Mees  Vernon  she  varee  well  at  pray- 
son,  sah." 

"  When  did  you  see  her,  Monsieur  Crapoussin  ?" 

"  Yeestidy,  I  see  uh.  I  waint  down  zere  w'en  yo's 
sleepiu',  sah.  She  look  varee  pooty — zes — lak — lak 
— lak  a  beauteous  angel." 

"  Then  she  is  not  in  the  hands  of  the  British  ? 
She  is — " 

"  Oh,  no,  monsieur  ;  she  is  at  home.  It  was  all  a 
meestake.  The  ladies  came  home.  Oh,  yes,  mon- 
sieur, they're  all  safe.  I  tole  you  zat  paysantlee." 

Fairfax  smiled  and  slept  again  and  murmured 
brokenly.  Crapaud  put  his  ear  close  to  the  pallid 
lips  and  caught  every  word. 

The  days  went  by,  days  of  suspense  and  anguish 
to  the  women  of  New  Orleans.  Those  were  women 


274  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

of  fine  courage,  however,  and  they  did  not  fold  their 
hands  and  cry.  Madame  Souvestre,  in  whose  man- 
sion Fairfax  was  receiving  such  tender  nursing  went 
out  every  day  to  sew  for  the  army.  At  the  Living- 
ston home  was  where  most  of  this  work  was  done  ;  at 
least,  so  far  as  Madame  Souvestre  *s  circle  was  con- 
cerned, and  there,  from  early  morning  until  the  din- 
ner hour,  a  throng  of  ladies  cut  and  stitched  and 
wrought  with  lively,  if  not  happy,  chatter,  keeping 
up  a  brave  show  of  nerve  and  confidence,  while  their 
husbands,  fathers,  brothers  and  lovers  dug  and 
shoveled  with  pick  and  spade  in  the  muddy  sand, 
building  a  line  of  breastworks  from  the  river 
near  Chalmette  across  to  the  swamp. 

Madame  Souvestre  was  considered  the  most  fav- 
ored one  of  all  her  circle.  To  have  a  brave,  young 
soldier,  wounded  almost  to  death,  as  her  special 
charge,  to  care  for  in  her  own  house,  with  her  own 
hands,  seemed  to  all  those  noble-hearted  and  patri- 
otic women  the  very  highest  possible  honor. 

"  I  am  just  as  jealous  of  you  as  I  can  be,"  said 
Mrs.  Livingston,  one  day,  after  the  sewing  task  was 
over  and  the  other  ladies  had  gone  away,  "  and  I 
think  it's  selfish  of  you,  dear,  not  to  allow  me  even 
to  see  your  brave  young  patient." 

"  But  the  doctor  forbade  it,  you  know,  and  said 
that  he  must  see  no  one — no  one  must  even  speak  to 
him — he  must  have  absolute  quiet.  Yes,  that  was 
just  what  he  said,  absolute  quiet." 

"  You  will  be  falling  in  love  with  him,  Hortense," 
Mrs.  Livingston  remarked,  after  a  little  further  con- 
versation had  disclosed  Madame  Souvestre's  enthusi- 


A   TENDER  NUBSE.  275 

astic  admiration  of  the  young-  man's  personal 
appearance,  "  and  that  will  be  romantic — it  will  be 
like  a  novel.  What  did  you  say  is  his  name  ?" 

"Fairfax.  It  has  a  noble  sound,  hasn't  it  ?  But, 
no,"  with  a  little  sigh,  "  there  is  no  more  romance 
for  me." 

Madame  Souvestre's  husband  had  been  killed  in  a 
duel  only  a  month  after  her  marriage,  two  years 
gone  by.  He  was  a  noted  swordsman  ;  but  when 
he  met  Colonel  Loring  under  the  dueling  oaks,  it 
was  Death  that  he  fenced  with,  and  he  was  run 
through  at  the  third  pass. 

"  Forgive  me,  dear,"  cooed  Mrs.  Livingston,  tak- 
ing the  petite  form  in  her  arms,  "  I  am  always  say- 
ing something  foolish.  You  are  too  good  and  sweet 
to  be  the  victim  of  my  teasing  tongue." 

She  kissed  her  and  then  held  her  at  arms'-length 
to  look  lovingly  at  her. 

"  You  are  so  beautiful,  dear,  that  if  I  were  a  man, 
I  know  I  should  steal  you.  I  couldn't  help  it !" 

Madame  Souvestre  laughed,  half-blushing  at  her 
friend's  enthusiasm.  She  broke  away  and  said  : 

"  I  must  go  back  to  him  ;  he  needs  a  great  deal  of 
care,  that  hero  of  mine." 

Mrs.  Livingston  stood  smiling  by  the  door  when 
her  friend  was  gone. 

"  She  loves  him  already,  the  little  warm-hearted 
witch  !"  she  mused,  "  and  if  he's  even  half  a  man, 
he  will  love  her.  Heigh-ho  !  I  wish  this  war  was 
over  !" 

She  clasped  her  hands,  and  the  light  faded  out  of 
her  face.  It  was  so  every  evening  after  the  ladies 


276  THE   KING-   OP     HONEY    ISLAND. 

were  all  gone  and  the  house  had  become  silent. 
She  nearly  always  went  to  her  dinner  with  a  tear- 
stained  face  and  with  feverish  eyes. 

Fairfax  did  not  improve  as  rapidly  as  Madame 
Souvestre  had  hoped  for ;  but  he  bore  up  bravely 
enough  and  showed  little  sign  of  dangerous  restless- 
ness until  the  night  of  the  yth  of  January,  when 
Crapaud  Crapoussin  went  back  to  the  army. 

"  They  need  me,"  the  dwarf  said,  "  and  I  want  to 
go.  You  can  do  without  me  for  a  few  hours." 

He  smiled  in  his  hideously  affectionate  way  and 
fondled  the  sick  man's  bloodless  hand. 

Madame  Souvestre  tried  to  persuade  him  not  to 
leave  her  ;  but  he  could  not  be  influenced.  He  had 
received  word  that  the  battle  would  be  on  before 
daylight  of  the  following  day,  and  his  Creole  blood 
was  hot  with  fight. 

"  I  will  be  back  to  bring  you  the  news  of  the  vic- 
tory before  sunset  to-morrow,"  he  said,  with  queer 
dramatic  intonation. 

Then  he  kissed  the  hand  of  Fairfax  and  was  off. 

Madame  Souvestre  cried  a  little  and  cast  herself 
upon  the  priedieu,  with  hands  held  forth  beseechingly 
to  the  Virgin. 

Fairfax  watched  her  as  if  through  some  sweet 
mist  of  tenderness.  The  plump  little  figure,  the 
perfectly  poised  head,  the  softly  rounded  arms  and 
beautiful,  tiny  hands  were  but  bewitching  auxili- 
aries to  the  pure,  childlike,  almost  saintly  face 
upturned  in  prayer. 

When  she  arose  and  came  to  his  bedside,  he  felt 
a  deep  comfort  in  her  nearness  to  him. 


A   TENDEE   NUBSE.  277 

"  How  good,  how  very  good  you  are  !"  he  mur- 
mured. 

Then  he  closed  his  eyes  and  thought  of  Pauline. 

Madame  Souvestre  stroked  his  pale  forehead 
gently,  slowly,  her  hands  trembling  with  the 
exquisite  thrill  that  was  in  her  nerves.  He  sank 
into  a  soft  slumber  and  dreamed  that  it  was  Pauline 
who  thus  soothed  away  his  pain. 

Slowly  the  hours  of  the  night  drew  by.  Madame 
Souvestre  never  left  the  bedside  of  the  sleeping 
man  save  to  walk  the  floor  in  the  soft  lamplight  or 
to  stand  a  moment  before  the  glass  and  smile 
approvingly  at  her  own  face. 

It  was  a  while  before  dawn  when  she  clasped  her 
hands  and  bent  over  Fairfax  to  hear  what  he  was 
saying  in  his  dream. 

"  Sweet  and  beautiful,"  he  murmured  low,  "  you 
are  so  good,  so  pure,  so  true,  so  kind  !" 

She  pressed  one  hand  upon  her  heart. 

"  Oh,  love  ?  You  have  taken  away  all  my  pain  !" 
he  rambled  on. 

She  started  back,  faltered,  blushed,  turned  pale, 
then  stood  looking  down  upon  his  strong  yet  some- 
what wasted  face  with  a  gaze  of  tenderest,  sweetest 
import.  The  next  moment  she  stooped  and  would 
have  kissed  him — nay,  her  lips  did  touch  his,  just  as 
an  awful  roar  of  cannon  shook  the  air. 

He  opened  his  eyes  and  smiled  as  one  coming" 
slowly  out  of  a  delicious  experience. 

Then  the  guns  roared  again. 

"What's  that  ?"  he  cried,  trying  to  sit.  up. 


278  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

She  gently  pushed  him  back  on  the  pillow,  and 
said : 

"  They  are  killing  those  English  down  there.  Be 
calm.  We  shall  hear  good  news  this  very  day.  So 
— so  ;  now,  don't  try  to  get  up,  please  ;  it  will  hurt 
you. 

And  then  the  din  of  battle  was  like  a  thunder- 
storm with  wind  and  hail,  and,  looking  out  of  the 
window,  Madame  Souvestre  saw  the  gray  of  day- 
light. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE    NIGHT    BEFORE    THE    BATTLE. 

It  was  dark,  foggy,  dreary  at  Chalmette  about  the 
first  hour  of  the  eighth  day  of  January,  1815,  and 
the  little  army  of  the  Americans  lay  in  silence 
behind  the  oozy  breastworks  just  completed.  Most 
of  the  tired  soldiers  were  asleep,  their  clothes  all 
wet  and  muddy  and  their  hands  blistered  by  the 
friction  of  pick-helve,  shovel-stave  and  spade-hilt. 
For  whole  days  and  nights  on  half-rations,  and 
almost  without  sleep,  they  have  delved  in  the  ditches 
aud  on  the  embankments.  Now  they  lay  on  their 
arms.  A  few  sentinels  walked  to  and  fro  with  slow, 
weary  tread.  General  Jackson  and  his  staff  were 
asleep  in  a  plantation-house  not  far  in  rear  of  the 
line. 

Mr.  Vernon  was,  by  his  own  request,   officer  of 


THE  NIGHT  BEFORE  THE  BATTLE.        279 

the  night,  and  all  alone  made  the  rounds,  again  and 
again,  of  the  different  commands  in  the  little  army, 
from  the  river  to  the  swamp.  He  preferred  this 
activity  to  any  attempt  to  sleep.  The  terrible 
weight  upon  his  heart  and  mind  was  only  less  crush- 
ing when  he  could  find  some  exacting  duty,  the 
performance  of  which  would  force  him  to  crowd  the 
moment's  demands  to  the  front  of  his  thoughts. 

A  few  hours  more,  and  the  battle  would  come  and 
be  over  with.  How  would  it  end  ?  In  the  intense 
selfishness  of  love — the  deepest  love  of  husband  and 
father — he  was  thinking  only  of  the  result  to  his 
dear  ones  in  the  case  of  victory  or  defeat.  But 
behind  the  awful  sense  of  danger  to  them  from  their 
captivity  to  an  army  whose  brutality  was  at  the  time 
known  the  world  over,  there  lay  a  vast,  formless, 
yet  certain  and  distinct  cloud  of  calamity  creep- 
ing closer  and  closer  to  their  lives  from  out  his 
past. 

It  was  while  he  was  standing  near  the  river,  at 
the  west  end  of  the  breastworks,  where  a  battery 
of  two  guns  had  been  planted,  that  a  hand  touched 
his  shoulder,  and  he  turned  to  face  old  Burns. 

It  was  as  if  the  tall,  wasted  form  had  arisen  out 
of  the  ground.  Mr.  Vernon  did  not  at  first  recog- 
nize him,  but  when  he  spoke,  the  voice  was  unmis- 
takable. 

"  There  is  no  use  trying  to  resist  the  force  yon- 
der," said  the  preacher.  '*  They  are  five  to  your 
one.  They  will  overwhelm  you  in  the  morning.  I 
have  been  there  ;  I  know  what  I  say." 


280  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

"  If  they  are  a  thousand  to  one,  "growled  Mr.  Ver- 
non,  "  we  will  whip  them." 

"  You  cannot  ;  they  will  pour  right  over  these 
works." 

"  They  will  never  cross  that  ditch." 

"  I  tell  you,"  said  Burns  with  vehemence,  "  there 
must  be  ten  thousand  of  them,  all  in  columns,  ready 
to  move  at  daylight." 

Mr.  Vernon  thrust  his  face  close  to  that  of  the 
preacher  and  said  : 

"  How  do  you  know  ?" 

"  Did  I  not  just  say  that  I  was  there  ?  It  is  not 
an  hour  since  I  stood  within  their  lines  and  saw 
what  I  have  spoken  of,"  was  the  prompt  answer. 

"  Then  come  with  me  to  General  Jackson  ;  he 
must  see  you  and  speak  with  you.  Come  on  !" 

He  clutched  Burns's  arm  and  led  him  toward  the 
house  where  the  general  was  sleeping. 

When  they  had  gone  a  little  way,  Burns  stopped 
suddenly,  as  if  some  thought  had  demanded  instant 
consideration,  or  as  if  he  had  on  the  moment  formed 
the  stubborn  resolution  not  to  go  farther. 

"  Thomas  MacCollough,"  he  exclaimed,  with  deep 
emphasis,  "  I  owe  you  my  life,  and  now  I  would 
save  yours  in  turn.  You — " 

"  Hold  !"  said  Mr.  Vernon,  interrupting  him  with 
peremptory  firmness.  "  Not  another  word  on  that 
score.  You  owe  me  nothing." 

"  Well,  then,  you  will  not  blame  me  if  I  kill  him  ?" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  I  speak  of  Kirk  MacCollough,  your  son  !" 


THE    NIGHT   BEFORE   THE   BATTLE.  281 

No  mere  presentation  of  the  words  can  suggest 
the  dramatic  import  of  this  terse  colloquy. 

Mr.  Vernon  turned  a  quarter  about  and  seized 
Burns's  other  arm. 

Behind  them  a  little  fire  flickered  in  the  fog  ; 
they  could  dimly  see  each  other's  faces,  grim  and 
grizzled,  as  they  leaned  closer  and  tried  to  stare  into 
each  other's  eyes. 

Lately  Mr.  Vernon  had  begun  to  dread  even  the 
thought  of  this  man,  who  now  seemed  the  one  great- 
est danger  to  his  happiness  ;  for  it  was  through  him 
that  the  past  seemed  on  the  point  of  being  unlocked 
and  re-opened.  Vasseur  knew  much  ;  but  Vasseur 
was  easy  to  manage.  One  other  knew  all  ;  but  that 
one  could  always  be  bought  to  silence  with  money. 
Burns  alone  was  unmanageable  ;  because  he  alone 
was  sincere  and  incorruptible. 

When  for  years  a  man  has  been  absolute  master 
of  himself  and  over  all  who  have  come  within  the 
circle  of  his  life,  it  is  hard  for  him  to  realize  suddenly 
that  his  influence  is  about  to  fail.  To  Mr.  Vernon 
this  threatened  failure  meant  much  more  than  mere 
loss  of  power  in  the  direction  of  any  ordinary  ambi- 
tion. He  had  lived  so  long  and  so  happily  on  the 
crust  of  a  volcano,  that,  until  Burns  had  come,  he  had 
forgotten  what  a  fire  lay  under  it.  The  worst  of  it 
was  that  a  man  like  Mr.  Vernon  could  but  feel 
helpless  and  hopeless  when  dealing  with  one  like 
Burns. 

As  they  stood  thus  for  a  moment  at  arms '-length, 
with  their  faces  thrust  almost  together,  the  two  men 
felt  for  the  first  time  clearly  how  much  they  were 


282  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

in  each  other's  way.  Burns  was  aware  now  that 
Mr.  Vernon  would  stand  between  him  and  his  one 
remaining  desire.  He  had  conferred  with  Vasseur, 
and  from  him  had  shrewdly  drawn  enough  to  con- 
firm himself  thoroughly  in  this  thought. 

Mr.  Vernon's  grip  on  Burns's  arms  drew  them 
inward  with  such  force  that  the  old  man's  chest  was 
almost  folded  together  and  his  breathing  became 
difficult. 

"  You,  a  minister  of  the  gospel,  a  priest  of  the 
God  of  Heaven,  come  to  tell  me  that  you  are  going 
to  assassinate — "  Mr.  Vernon  stopped  short  and 
drew  in  a  deep,  shivering  breath  as  if  the  words  had 
almost  choked  him.  "  Shall  1  turn  you  over  to 
Jackson  to  be  dealt  with  ?" 

"  Shall  I  turn  you  over  to  him  ?"  calmly  responded 
Burns. 

There  was  something  desperately  reckless,  beyond 
anything  that  Mr.  Vernon  had  ever  dreamed  of,  in 
the  suggested  significance  of  the  words.  He  invol- 
untarily loosed  his  hold  and  let  fall  his  hands  as  if 
just  released  from  a  galvanic  shock. 

"  True,  true,"  he  murmured,  in  a  strangely 
changed  voice  ;  "  I  am  not  one  to  lead  others  to 
justice." 

"  You  are  better,  far  better  than  most  men,  even 
with  your  sins  all  counted,"  said  Burns.  "  I  owe 
everything  to  you  and  yours — " 

"  Everything?" 

"  Yes,  everything.     But  the  evil  part  is  not — " 

"  Yes,  yes,  the  evil  and  all  is  from  me." 


THE  NIGHT  BEFORE  THE  BATTLE.       283 

"  I  was  hungry  and  you  fed  me.  I  was  dying  and 
you  nursed  me  back  to  life." 

"And  now  I  ask  you  for  more  than  life  !" 
exclaimed  Mr.  Vernon,  in  a  hoarse  whisper. 

"  I  know,  I  know,"  faltered  Burns. 

"  No,  you  do  not.  You  know  enough,  but  not  all." 

"  Yes,  Thomas  McCollough— " 

Mr.  Vernon  flew  at  his  throat  and  shut  off  his 
words. 

"  Speak  that  name  again,  and — "  He  did  not 
complete  the  sentence  ;  he  was  ashamed  of  himself 
instantly  "  Forgive  me  ;  I  am  not  at  myself,"  he  went 
on,  letting  go  his  hold.  His  voice  softened.  "  And 
you — you  are  going  all  wrong,  Mr.  Burns,  you  are 
permitting  your  passion  to  drag  you  along  with  it  ; 
let  me  beg  of  you  to  stop  and  give  your  conscience 
its  freedom  once  more." 

"  I  am  sure,"  said  Burns,  with  dry  emphasis,  "  that 
you  have  shown  less  self-control  than  have  I.  I 
haven't  tried  to  choke  you." 

"  Forgive  me,  I  repeat  it,  forgive  me  !"  Mr.  Ver- 
non supplicated. 

"There  is  nothing  to  forgive  ;  I  mentioned  it 
only  to  remind  you  that  it  is  not  so  easy  to  hold 
oneself  in." 

"  But  you  are  a  good  man,  Mr.  Burns,  and  I  am 
not.  Your  life  has  been  pure  and  clean  and  self- 
sacrificing.  You  have  served  God  and  kept  his 
commandments.  It  is  terrible  for  you  to  close  up 
your  long  and  noble  career  where  mine  began,  in 
crime  and  violence.  Think  a  moment,  and — " 

"  No,  no,  when  I  think,  it  maddens  me  !     I  dare 


284  me  KING  or  HONEY  ISLAND. 

not  think  !  Don't  ask  me  to.  All  my  years  of 
humble  service  in  my  calling  have  led  up  to  this. 
It  is  fate.  I  have  but  one  thing  to  live  for  and  that 
I  will  accomplish  before  I  die." 

"  Have  you  thrown  off  your  Christianity,  your 
obligation  to  God  and  your  priestly  sanctity,  as  one 
throws  off  a  top-coat  ?" 

"  All  these  have  been  torn  from  me  by  the  way- 
side thorns.  I  wore  them  till  they  fell  in  shreds  at 
my  feet.  They  were  not  the  true — " 

"  There,  ta  !  You  do  violence  to  yourself  and  to 
your  sacred  profession." 

"  Violence,  violence,  ah  !  I  have  felt  what  it  is. 
I  am  not  violent  !  I  am  simply  God's  blade  of  ven- 
geance. I  am  not  a  living  man  as  you  are  ;  I  am 
dead,  save  for  the  one  little  spark  that  lights  me  to 
my  purpose.  You  do  not  understand  me  ;  you  can- 
npt ;  you  have  not  suffered  enough  to  realize  my 
meaning." 

"  Ta  !     You  are  unreasonable." 

"  Am  I  ?  So  I  am.  It  is  well  that  I  am.  If  I 
were  reasonable  I  could  not  do  what  is  to  be  done. 
Behind  me  is  desolation,  a  desert,  a  scorched  and 
blackened  way,  a  life  made  as  a  cinder  by  Kirk 
MacCollough.  Reasonable,  reasonable !  To  kill 
him  is  the  only  reasonable  thing  !" 

Burns's  words  fell  upon  Mr.  Vernon's  ears  with  a 
strange  power.  It  was  not  the  crazed  old  preacher's 
purpose  that  struck  with  most  terrible  effect.  It 
was  what  lay  beyond  even  the  most  perfect  consum- 
mation of  revenge.  There  seemed  little  probability, 
indeed,  that  Burns  could  ever  do  harm  to  the  man 


THE   NIGHT   BEFORE   THE    BATTLE.  285 

he  was  trying  to  follow  ;  but  what  he  might  do  with 
the  mere  breath  of  his  frenzied  lips  was  incompar- 
ably dreadful  to  think  of. 

Strange  it  is  that,  although  Mr.  Vernon  had  not 
the  slightest  assurance  of  the  safety  of  his  wife  and 
daughter  from  even  the  most  horrible  consequences 
that  could  come  out  of  their  captivity,  he  felt  their 
danger  from  that  source  far  less  than  what  would 
befall  them  were  his  past  to  be  made  known  to 
them.  Somehow,  so  long  as  he  had  Jackson's  army 
with  him,  he  could  not  lose  the  hope  that  all  would 
be  well,  so  far  as  retaking  his  loved  ones  was  con- 
cerned. 

This  was  but  a  matter  of  fight.  But  the  other  ! 
That  was  not  to  be  fought  back,  once  it  should  find 
the  way  to  reach  them.  He  felt  that  Burns,  in  his 
monomania,  was  likely  at  any  moment  to  make  an 
end  of  all  this  beautiful,  precious  dream  of  happi- 
ness. Happiness  ?  Ah  !  He  had  been  happy — no 
man  happier — but  now,  what  was  coming  ?  Where 
were  his  wife  and  daughter  ?  He  felt  his  brain  swim 
and  waver. 

Suddenly  he  grasped  Burns's  arms  again  with  all 
his  giant  strength. 

"  Tell  me  right  here  and  now,"  he  muttered  husk- 
ily, "  tell  me  :  Are  you  going  to  betray  me  ?  are  you 
going  to  disclose  the  secret  of  my  life  ?  Speak  or — 

"  I  will  not  speak,  save  to  shout  for  help,  while 
you  assault  me  like  this,"  said  Burns. 

"  Forgive  me  ;  I  forgot. " 

Mr.  Vernon  took  off  his  hands  from  the  old  man's 
arms  as  he  spoke. 


286  THE   KING   OF    HONEY   ISLAND. 

"  But  you  can  see  how  terrible  it  would  be.  Think 
of  my  wife  and  daughter  !" 

"  Think  of  Margaret !  But — but — to  be  sure, 
you  never  harmed  her,  and  I  owe  my  life  to  you  and 
yours,"  said  Burns.  He  stood  a  moment  in  silence, 
and  then  added : 

"  Your  secret  is  safe  with  me  so  long  as  you  do 
not  interfere  with — with  my  purpose.  To  accom- 
plish that  I  would,  if  I  could,  destroy  heaven  and 
earth  and  all  that  is  in  them.  I  tell  you  that  Kirk 
MacCollough  shall  not  live  !" 

His  tone  was  solemnly  awful.  Mr.  Vernon  felt 
helpless  before  him.  They  stood  there  in  silence 
after  that  until,  suddenly,  a  light  flashed  forth  from 
the  house  where  General  Jackson  had  his  head- 
quarters. 

"Gentlemen,  it  is  time  to  be  up  !"  they  heard  the 
gruff  commander  exclaim,  as  if  to  awaken  his  sleep- 
ing staff  ;  "  the  redcoats  will  be  upon  us  before  we 
are  ready  if  we  don't  step  spry.  Come,  come,  gen- 
tlemen, fall  out  ?" 

Immediately  there  were  a  stir  and  bustle  in  the 
house.  Lights  shown  at  the  windows  and  the  clink- 
ing of  latches  and  the  opening  of  doors  told  how 
promptly  the  officers  responded  to  the  call  of  their 
leader.  A  moment  later  Jackson  himself  came  forth, 
followed  by  the  enthusiastic  but  sleepy  aids,  who 
were  buckling  on  their  side-arms. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Vernon  ;  is  that  you  ?"  he  demanded, 
as  he  came  near  the  two  old  men.  "  How  goes  every- 
thing ?  Any  stir  among  the  redcoats  ?" 


ENOS   PEEVY'S    KIFLE-PEACTICE.  287 

"  Not  yet,"  replied  Mr.  Vernon,  "  save  that  they 
seem  to  be  making  ready  for  an  advance." 

"  Let  them  come  ;  we  are  ready.  Who  is  this  you 
have  with  you  ?" 

The  general  peered  askance  at  Burns  through  the 
fog  and  dust. 

"  It  is  a  friend  of  mine,"  said  Mr.  Vernon,  without 
offering  further  introduction. 

The  members  of  Jackson's  staff  were  coming 
around  him  for  orders,  which  he  began  giving  with 
his  usual  swift  and  clear  understanding  of  what  the 
moment  called  for.  Meantime  Burns  managed  to 
disappear. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 
ENOS  PEEVY'S  RIFLE-PRACTICE. 

At  a  little  after  daybreak,  though  the  fog  was  still 
heavy  and  the  breeze  too  light  to  remove  it,  it  was 
observed  that  the  British  were  steadily  advancing. 

Jackson  had  everything  ready  and  was  nervously 
eager  for  the  fray  to  begin  ;  but  he  preserved  a  cool 
expression  of  face,  and  gave  orders  that  there  be 
not  a  shot  fired  until  the  enemy  were  within  cer- 
tain range  of  the  guns. 

Mr.  Vernon  hastened  to  make  his  presence  felt 
among  the  men,  who  looked  to  him  for  the  encour- 
agement that  such  beings  always  need  in  the 
supreme  hour  of  danger.  He  found  them  chilled 


288  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

and  hungry  ;  but  they  responded  vehemently  to  his 
few  low  words,  and  showed  that  they  meant  to  be 
brave. 

A  fiery  rocket  whizzed  up  from  the  British  front 
and  curved  through  the  slowly  thinning  fog  ;  then 
another  arose  from  a  different  point. 

"  They  are  coming,"  said  Jackson  to  Lieutenant 
Ballanche.  "  Let  us  go  to  Spotts's  battery." 

They  walked  along  the  line  at  a  rapid  gait  and, 
just  as  they  came  near,  they  heard  a  low  order,  and 
then  out  boomed  the  gun.  The  long,  red  blaze 
leaped  far  out  through  the  fog-curtain,  and  they 
saw  for  the  first  time  the  glint  of  red  uniforms 
away  off  by  the  line  of  woods  across  the  open  level 
land. 

The  column  was  moving  at  a  swift  pace  right 
down  upon  them. 

Old  Enos  Peevy  came  near  the  general  and 
saluted. 

"  Well,  Enos,"  said  Jackson,  "  is  Mary  Ann  in 
good  order  ?" 

"  Ye'll  see  poorty  soon,  gin'r'l.  I  air  jes'  er  waitin' 
for  'em  air  fellers  ter  come  close  enough  for  Mary 
Ann  ter  talk  to  'em  ;  she  air  got  some  remarks  to 
say  to  'em,  an  she'll  make  'em  sick,  shore  'nuff." 

He  rubbed  the  long,  heavy  barrel  of  his  rifle 
while  he  spoke,  and  wagged  his  head  grimly. 

And  now  the  breeze  strengthened  and  began  to 
lift  away  the  fog. 

Spotts's  gun  bellowed  once  more,  shaking  the 
wet  ground  with  its  tremendous  concussion. 

The  British  column  came  right  on  ;  all  the  bat- 


ENOS  PEEVY'S  KIFLE-PRACTICE.  289 

teries  in  front  of  it  opened  bravely  and  sent  their 
heavy  missiles  plowing  through  it. 

Soon  enough  the  rifles  of  Tennessee  and  Kentucky 
began  to  crack,  keen  and  clear  ;  and  when  the  range 
became  certain,  the  effect  was  terrible  to  see. 

Peevy  stood  on  top  of  the  earthwork,  with  the 
brim  of  his  old  cap  turned  up  in  front.  He  lifted 
his  gun  and  fired  at  an  officer,  who,  sword  in  hand, 
was  leading  the  column.  It  was  a  deadly  shot. 
Down  fell  the  brave  man  ;  but  the  column  bore 
right  on.  Not  far,  however,  for  there  was  that  fatal 
ditch  in  its  way,  and  the  bullets  and  cannon-shot 
were  cutting  men  down  like  weeds. 

"  Give  it  to  them,  boys  !"  shouted  Jackson,  as  he 
tramped  back  and  forth  behind  his  brave  little  army, 
the  fire  of  battle  lighting  up  his  careworn  face. 
"  Give  it  to  them  while  they  are  wavering  !" 

The  British  recoiled,  shattered,  bleeding,  con- 
fused, their  front  ranks  breaking  into  and  destroying 
the  order  of  those  behind.  At  first  it  appeared  that 
the  fight  was  over  ;  for  how  could  those  scattered 
and  widely  fleeing  men  ever  be  rallied  and  re-formed  ? 

It  was  then  that  the  brave  Pakenham  showed 
himself  at  the  front  waving  his  hat  aloft  and  gallop- 
ing to  and  fro  and  calling  on  his  men  to  remember 
the  honor  of  England.  They  heard  his  manly  voice 
above  the  roar  of  the  patriot  guns  that  were  playing 
upon  them,  and  they  turned  and  set  their  faces  once 
more  toward  those  low,  dark  breastworks  along 
which  flickered  and  sparkled  and  flamed  the  rifle- 
blazes  of  marksmen  who  shot  with  the  aim  of  vet- 
eran woodsmen.  The  bullets,  like  level  swarms  of 


290  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

furious  bees,  hummed  along  the  crisp  air  of  the 
morning. 

"  Aim  well,  men !  Get  a  fine  bead  on  them  !" 
shouted  Jackson.  "  Blow  them  to  hell !" 

"  That's  the  talk,  gin'r'l !"  responded  Peevy,  as  he 
stood  deliberately  reloading  Mary  Ann.  "I'm  er 
doin*  that  air  very  thing  !" 

There  was  Vasseur  wildly  excited  and  trembling 
like  a  freezing  lamb,  but  fighting  like  a  mad  lion. 

Not  far  off,  Crapaiid  Crapoussin,  who  came  from 
the  city  but  an  hour  before,  was  crouching  behind 
the  wet  earthwork  and  firing  away  as  best  he  could. 
Fiddler  Dick  was  there,  too,  with  an  enormously 
heavy  gun,  which  was  so  long,  that  he  had  to  rest 
the  butt  of  it  far  back  on  the  ground  behind  him 
when  he  was  loading  it.  Indeed,  it  seemed  that  all 
classes  of  men  to  be  found  on  the  gulf  coast,  gentle- 
men and  cut-throat,  dandy  and  ragamuffin,  upright 
citizen  and  scowling  forban,  all  the  noted  characters 
of  city  or  swamp  were  to  be  seen  in  that  oozy  trench 
fighting  for  the  country  of  their  birth  or  adoption, 
regardless  of  self,  their  whole  energy  centered  in 
the  one  desire  to  drive  back  the  British.  Only  one 
of  the  well-known  men  of  New  Orleans  who  might 
well  have  been  looked  for  in  the  line  was  missing. 
Yes,  two.  Colonel  Loring  and  Lafitte. 

The  latter  had  been  sent  by  Livingston  to  bear 
Mrs.  Livingston  and  her  child  to  a  place  of  safety, 
should  the  battle  be  lost. 

Down  the  line  where  Mr.  Vernon's  men  were 
stationed,  the  roar  of  the  guns  was  continuous,  like 
the  long,  rattling  roll  of  summer  thunder.  The 


ENOS  PEEVY'S  KIFLE-PKACTICE.  291 

British  bullets  sang  keenly  overhead  or  tossed  up 
little  puffs  of  sand  along  the  embarkment. 

"  I'll  git  thet  air  feller  on  the  hoss  yit,"  muttered 
Peevy,  taking  aim  at  Pakenham,  "  thet  is,  ef  Mary 
Ann  kin  carry  thet  fur." 

He  fired,  and  down  went  that  brave  officer's  horse, 
pitching  his  rider  headlong. 

"  Thet  thar  stopped  his  cavortin',  anyhow  !"  the 
scout  bawled  out,  though  everybody  was  too  excited 
to  hear.  "  'Rah  fur  Gin'r'l  Jackson  !" 

About  this  time  Burns  came  shambling  along  the 
line,  apparently  quite  unconscious  of  danger.  He 
was  haggard  and  wild-looking,  his  hair  unkempt  and 
his  long,  thin,  white  beard  tangled  across  his  face. 

He  saw  Vasseur  and  approached  him. 

"  Have  you  seen  him  yet  ?"  he  inquired,  bending 
over  the  excited  little  half-breed,  "  have  you  seen 
him  yet  ?" 

A  round-shot  cast  up  a  splash  of  mud  and  water 
in  front  of  them. 

"  He  not  there  at  prayson,"  stammered  forth  poor 
Vasseur.  "  Mebbe  he  not  care  about  zis  t'ing  varee 
likely." 

The  front  of  the  British  column  dashed  up  to  the 
ditch  ;  a  few  brave  fellows  floundered  through  it 
and  rushed  right  into  the  muzzles  of  the  American 
guns. 

But  it  was  not  for  mortal  courage  to  stem  that 
humming  current  of  missiles.  A  thirty-two-pounder 
was  loaded  to  the  muzzle  with  musket-balls  and 
fragments  of  metal.  Just  as  the  column  thickened 
close  along  the  ditch,  the  gunner,  with  steady  hand, 


292  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

lowered  the  piece  so  that  the  dreadful  charge  vvoiild 
rake  the  level  surface  of  the  ground  and  fired. 
Never,  perhaps,  in  the  history  of  warfare  was  there 
another  so  destructive  a  shot.  The  historians  tell 
(what  is  too  incredible  even  for  romance)  that  two 
hundred  British  soldiers  were  killed  outright  by  that 
storm  of  lead  and  iron,  that  one  blast  of  the  breath 
of  war  ! 

The  whole  front  of  the  charging  column  had 
melted  down. 

Peevy  still  stood  on  the  breastwork,  peeping 
through  the  battle-smoke,  trying  always  to  aim  at 
some  particular  one  of  the  enemy  before  firing 
Mary  Ann. 

Pakenham  had  been  given  another  horse,  and 
although  one  of  the  scout's  bullets  had  hit  him,  he 
mounted  and  went  to  the  head  of  the  column  once 
more  to  re-form  it.  But  he  was  doomed.  A  grape- 
shot  dashed  him,  dying,  to  the  ground. 

General  Gibbs  took  command.  Peevy  saw  him 
and  signaled  him  out  for  his  aim. 

Mary  Ann  was  merciless.  Officer  after  officer 
fell.  Down  dropped  Gibbs  ;  over  went  Keane  ; 
Dale  fell  dead  ;  indeed,  it  seemed  that  no  man  who 
undertook  to  lead  the  columns  could  escape  those 
special  messages  of  Mary  Ann  when  directed  by  the 
imperturbable  aim  of  the  scout. 

So  the  battle  went  ;  the  British  recoiled,  plunged 
forward,  tumbled  in  bleeding  heaps,  broke,  rallied, 
charged  again  and  again.  That  little,  muddy  ditch, 
with  its  slippery  banks  and  slow,  dark  tide,  was  the 
line  of  death.  No  man  crossed  it  and  lived. 


ENOS  PEEVY'S  RIFLE-PRACTICE.  293 

At  the  last  desperate  moment,  a  man,  superbly 
mounted,  was  seen  calling  together  the  bravest 
spirits  of  the  English  army.  He  rode  like  a  king  ; 
his  face  was  as  cold  as  marble  and  yet  scintillant 
with  magnetic  energy. 

General  Jackson  leveled  his  old  field-glass  upon 
him  and  actually  recoiled. 

"  That  devil !"  he  exclaimed,  and  his  bronzed  and 
jaundiced  visage  showed  a  sudden  excitement.  "  A 
renegade,  by  the  eternal  !" 

Vasseur  saw  the  new  leader  and  leaned  over  the 
breastwork  to  gaze  at  him.  So  attracted  was  he  by 
the  apparition  that  he  forgot  his  fear. 

Mr.  Vernon  looked  and  turned  pale.  The  enemy's 
line  re-formed,  the  Highlanders  in  front,  and  came 
on  again,  this  time  with  a  steady  sweep  that  ap- 
peared resistless. 

Peevy  was  still  at  his  stand,  reloading  Mary  Ann 
as  calmly  as  if  he  were  going  to  shoot  a  squirrel. 

"  He  air  a  long  ways  off,  Mary  Ann,"  muttered 
he,  "  but  we  tnus'  re'ch  'im,  ole  gal  !" 

He  lifted  the  rifle  and  took  deliberate  sight  over 
the  long  barrel.  The  sharp  report  was  lost  in  the 
general  roar  of  the  fight.  Had  he  missed  ?  There 
was  no  sign  to  the  contrary. 

"  Pierre  Rameau  !  Viola  !  See  !  It's  Pierre  Ra- 
meau  !"  screamed  Vasseur,  dancing  around  wildly. 

General  Jackson  came  almost  running  along  the 
line,  the  white  foam  of  excitement  fringing  his 
bloodless  lips. 

"  Shoot  that  eternal,  infernal  scoundrel  for  me, 
Peevy  !"  he  shouted,  pointing  his  long,  emaciated 


294:  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

finger  toward  the  new  British  leader.     "  Shoot  him  ! 
Kill  him  !" 

"  Thet  air  's  jes'  w'at  I  tole  Mary  Ann,"  replied 
the  scout,  priming  his  rifle. 

Jackson  snatched  up  an  old  musket  that  had  been 
flung  down  by  some  one  and  aimed  it.  It  snapped 
harmlessly.  He  dashed  it  aside  with  furioiis  empha- 
sis and  stood  gazing  in  stark  anger. 

On  came  that  steady,  shining  line,  the  regiment 
of  Highlanders  stepping  all  as  one  man. 

"  Blow  'em  up  !"  yelled  Jackson.  "  Blow  'em  to 
the  devil  !  Shoot  that  officer  !  Everybody  aim  at 
him !  Do  you  hear  ?  Shoot  that  man  on  the 
horse  !" 

"  Thet  's  the  doctrine  w'at  I'm  er  preachin'  ter 
Mary  Ann,"  responded  Peevy. 

Vasseur  was  so  excited  that  he  forgot  to  prime 
his  gun  and,  when  at  last  he  did  prime  it,  he  had 
rammed  home  three  loads,  and  so,  when  he  fired,  it 
almost  kicked  him  over.  He  thought  he  was 
wounded  in  the  shoulder.  He  cursed  in  three 
languages. 

The  horseman  rode  right  up  to  the  ditch  and 
waved  his  hand  to  signal  the  charging  troops  to 
cross  it. 

Peevy  fired.  The  man's  right  arm  fell  to  his  side  ; 
but  he  took  the  bridle  reins  in  his  teeth  and  waved 
his  hat  with  his  left  hand. 

"  Shoot  that  devil,  I  tell  you,  Peevy,  shoot  him  !" 

"  Ef  ye'll  shet  erp  yer  mouth,  gin'r'l,  an'  quit  er 
botherin'  me  wi*  yer  talk,  I'll  do  it  yit  !"  cried  the 
scout,  with  peevish  fretfulness  in  his  voice.  "  Mary 


ENOS  PEEVT'S  RIFLE-PRACTICE.  295 

Ann  cayn't  stan'  no  sich  jawin'  es  this  yar  'at  ye'r' 
a-givin'  us  !  Go  on  erbout  yer  own  business  an'  le' 
me  erlone !" 

The  general  probably  did  not  hear  these  words  ; 
but  if  he  did  he  made  no  response,  for  Peevy  was  a 
privileged  character. 

Mr.  Vernon  stood  mute  and  motionless,  his  eyes 
fixed  upon  that  desperate  horseman. 

"  Order  your  men  to  shoot  at  that  officer — that 
renegade  yonder!"  Jackson  stormed  in  the  old  man's 
ear. 

Mr.  Vernon  made  no  response,  but  turned  and 
walked  away. 

Just  then  the  batteries  and  the  rifles  of  Carroll's 
men  all  roared  out  as  one.  A  level  flood  of  destruc- 
tion poured  across  the  ditch.  For  a  few  moments 
the  smoke  enveloped  the  American  line  so  that  noth- 
ing could  be  seen.  Still  the  marksmen  had  the 
range  and  kept  on  firing  by  guess,  doing  frightful 
havoc. 

When  the  cloud  lifted,  the  whole  British  army 
had  apparently  melted  away.  All  over  the  level 
field  lay  heaps  and  windrows  of  the  slain.  A  few 
scattered  redcoats  shone  in  the  distance,  their 
wearers  in  precipitate  flight.  Broken  cannon, 
tumbled  fascines  and  crushed  ladders  marked  the 
straggling  route  of  the  British  Forty-fourth  Regi- 
ment, which  had  been  assigned  to  the  duty  of  mak- 
ing the  ditch  crossable.  One  company,  not  far 
from  the  river,  was  seen  trying  to  re-form,  although 
half  of  its  men  were  already  dead  and  the  living 
ones  nearly  all  wounded. 


296  THE   KING   OF   HONEY  ISLAND. 

The  rider  who  had  been  so  boldly  conspicuous 
was  urging  his  sorely  crippled  horse  away  across 
the  field  toward  the  wood.  He  still  had  the  reins 
in  his  teeth,  while  both  arms  dangled  at  his  sides. 

The  terrible  thirty-two-pounder  was  fired  once 
more,  and  the  horse  went  down,  torn  into  shreds  ; 
but  up  rose  that  dark,  determined  cavalier  and 
steadily  continued  his  retreat  on  foot. 

A  yell  of  admiration  burst  forth  from  the  victori- 
ous Americans  as  they  gazed. 

Then  a  still  stranger  sight  met  their  eyes.  A  tall 
old  man,  who  had  climbed  over  the  breastworks 
from  the  American  side,  set  off  at  a  tottering  but 
singularly  swift  gait  in  the  direction  of  the  British 
lines.  When  he  reached  the  fatal  ditch,  beyond 
which  the  ground  was  heaped  with  slain,  he  floun- 
dered through  it  and  arose,  muddy  and  dripping,  on 
the  farther  bank.  There  he  paused  for  a  moment, 
wiped  the  ooze  from  his  face  and  then  went  right 
on. 

It  was  Max  Burns,  the  preacher.  And  who  was 
that  little  man  running  after  him  ?  The  onlookers 
had  scarcely  had  time  to  make  out  before  the  cloud 
of  smoke  settled  down  again  and  hid  both  from  view. 

Mr.  Vernon  stood  like  a  grim  statue  while  this 
was  going  on.  Very  well  he  knew  what  it  was  that 
impelled  both  Burns  and  Vasseur. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

PRISOHERS. 

When  Lapin  recoiled  before  the  incoming  men 
out  at  the  plantation-house  and  uttered  the  name  of 
Pierre  Rameau,  Mrs.  Vernon,  Pauline  and  Made- 
moiselle de  Sezannes  began  to  shriek,  rushing 
together  into  one  another's  arms. 

Colonel  Loring  entered,  followed  by  two  or  three 
ill-favored  men.  If  he  was  surprised  at  seeing  the 
three  ladies  so  frightened  at  the  mere  mention  of 
his  name — the  name  he  had  come  to  like  best — he 
did  not  show  it  in  his  calm,  cold  face,  or  by  even 
the  slightest  movement. 

He  stood  a  moment  as  if  to  make  sure  of  his 
vision  and  then  stalked  forward  in  his  peculiar  half- 
graceful,  half-dogged  way  to  where  the  group  of 
frightened  and  crying  women  stood. 

"  Why,  Madame  Vernon  !"  he  cried.  "  Is  this 
you  ?  And  you,  Miss  Pauline  !  And  Mademoiselle 
de  Sezannes  !" 

He  looked  at  them  askance,  but  with  no  particular 
interest. 

"  Oh,  it  is  Colonel  Loring  !"  cried  Mrs.  Vernon, 

[297] 


298  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

springing  toward  him,  almost  as  if  to  embrace  him, 
in  her  sudden  sense  of  relief.  "  I  was  frightened 
nearly  out  of  my  senses  ;  oh,  I'm  so  very  glad  !" 

The  man  smiled  so  that  his  face  for  the  moment 
flashed  forth  a  fascinating  light  from  its  almost  stolid 
features.  He  took  Mrs.  Vernon's  hand,  and  at  the 
same  time  looked  at  Pauline  and  Mademoiselle  de 
Sezannes. 

"  I  am  making  my  way  to  my  friends,"  he  said, 
"  and  came  in  here  thinking  to  get  some  information. 
I  did  not  dream  of  the  pleasure  of  finding  you  here." 

He  told  the  lie  with  consummate  ease  and  nat- 
uralness. 

The  young  ladies  now  came  forward  smiling 
through  their  tears  and  greeted  him  warmly.  For 
the  moment  even  Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes  forgot 
that  he  had  made  himself  odious  to  her. 

Meantime  Lapin  stood  open-mouthed  and  wonder- 
ing to  see  that  terrible  robber  received  so  consider- 
ately by  his  mistress  and  Pauline. 

"  I  am  on  my  way  to  join  the  British  army," 
Loring  went  on  to  say,  with  perfect  indifference  in 
his  tone.  "  I  think  they  are  quite  near  here." 

Mrs.  Vernon  recoiled  from  him,  horrified.  Pau- 
line's face  whitened. 

"  But  you  are  jesting,"  said  Mademoiselle  de 
Sezannes.  "  You  would  not  do  that." 

"Why  not?"  he  demanded,  with  something  like 
brutal  emphasis.  "  What  should  hinder  me  ?  These 
Americans  have  set  a  price  on  my  head  ;  and, 
besides,  I  am  a  Scotchman.  I  owe  my  allegiance  to 
my  country." 


PRISONERS.  299 

The  scene  in  the  theatre  rose  in  Mademoiselle  de 
Sezannes's  memory  at  once,  and  so  vividly  that  she 
clasped  her  hands  and  uttered  a  little  cry  of  pain 
and  anger. 

Loring  smiled  sardonically,  feeling  her  thought, 
as  it  were,  flung  upon  him. 

"  This  country  is  too  small  for  both  me  and  my 
enemies,"  he  smiled,  "  and  so  for  a  few  days  I  leave 
them  in  possession  ;  but  when  I  return,"  and  his 
face  showed  a  sudden  concentration  of  passion, 
"  when  I  return,  they  will  be  glad  to  get  out  of  my 
way." 

He  turned  and  waved  his  hand,  and  his  men 
retired  from  the  house. 

"  Go  give  them  something  to  eat,"  he  said  to 
Lapin.  I 

Then  he  began  tramping  heavily  back  and  forth 
across  the  floor. 

Pauline  went  to  him  and  timidly  yet  with  a  cer- 
tain firmness  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm.  She  walked 
beside  him.  It  was  a  strange  picture  they  made. 
The  girl's  impulse  could  not  have  been  explained 
by  her  ;  she  felt  as  if  she  could  save  him,  as  if  some 
great  spring  in  her  nature  compelled  her  to  try. 

The  thought  that  the  British  army  was  very  near 
her  had  affected  Mrs.  Vernon  to  such  a  degree  that 
she  could  not  feel  the  full  force  of  what  was  impell- 
ing Pauline.  As  for  Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes,  she 
stood  shivering  with  a  chill  of  blended  emotions 
while  she  gazed  at  Loring. 

It  is  the  last  refinement  of  torture  when  we  feel 
that  we  hate  and  detest  and  yet  have  to  admire- 


300  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

Loring  compelled  Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes's  ad- 
miration in  some  mysterious  way.  His  manly 
beauty,  marred  with  the  gloom  of  evil  as  it  was,  had 
yet  the  fascination  which  captivates  while  it  repels. 
As  he  walked  with  Pauline  hanging  on  his  arm,  it 
was  like  Satan  leading  an  angel  of  heaven  and  still 
there  came  from  his  dark  face  the  unmistakable  and 
irresistible  demand  for  sympathy. 

"  Do  not  go,"  murmured  Pauline  ;  "  stay  with  us. 
I  do  not  know  why,  but  I  feel  that  I  cannot  let  you 
go." 

Her  appeal  was  so  simply  spoken,  so  earnest,  so 
evidently  straight  from  the  heart  that  Loring  looked 
down  into  her  face  with  sudden  softening  of  his 
cruel  eyes.  He  did  not  speak,  but  she  saw  his  look. 

"  You  know  that  it  is  not  right  for  you  to — " 

"  Right !"  he  interrupted.  "  I  never  did  a  right 
thing  in  my  life.  Doing  right  would  be  a  new 
experience." 

"  Begin  now,"  she  urged.  "  You  will  find  it  very 
comforting." 

"  Do  you  know  who  I  am  ?"  he  demanded,  almost 
gruffly. 

"Yes,  I  know." 

"  No,  you  do  not.  If  you  did,  you  would  not  touch 
me,  speak  tome,  look  at  me.  You  would  abhor  me." 

"  I  heard  your  name  just  a  while  ago." 

"  Ah,  that  name  !  Yes,  you  heard  that.  Is  it  not 
dreadful  to  you  ?" 

"You  might  be  a  good  man  yet." 

"  The  words  come  easily ;  but  deeds  are  not  so 


PRISONERS.  301 

lig-htly  fashioned.     If  I  had  always  had  one  like  you 
to  influence  me — " 

"  It  is  yourself  that  must  do  that.  You  are  no 
child  to  be  influenced.  I  am  scarcely  more  than  a 
child  myself,  but  I  know  that — " 

"You  know  absolutely  nothing." 

"  I  know  that,  if  you  would  try,  you  could  be  a 
good  man.  Forgive  me,  if  I  say  that  you  are  bad  ; 
but—" 

He  laughed  outright  and  looked  at  her  as  one 
looks  at  a  child  when  it  has  said  some  laughable 
thing. 

She  let  go  his  arm  and  stood  facing  him.  Her 
attitude  and  her  fresh  and  delicate  beauty  made  her 
look  like  a  tall,  graceful  flower. 

He  reached  a  hand  and  half  caressingly  touched 
her  hair.  It  was  the  thing  that  a  brother  would 
have  done  ;  there  was  no  way  of  resenting  it. 

"  I'd  rather  have  a  biscuit  and  a  glass  of  wine 
than  a  lecture,"  he  said,  lightly  enough.  "  Can't 
you  offer  me  something  to  eat  and  drink  ?  I'm 
hungry." 

"  Yes,  certainly." 

They  together  approached  Mrs.  Vernon  and 
Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes,  who  had  been  standing 
helplessly  looking  upon  what  was  to  them  an  inex- 
plicable scene. 

"  Colonel  Loring  has  not  had  dinner,"  Pauline 
said  to  her  mother  ;  "  we  must  be  hospitable." 

Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes  shrank  away  as  they 
came  up. 

Loring  noticed  this  and  gave  her  a  smile  which 


302  THE   KINO   OP   HONEY   ISLAND. 

made  his  face  show  all  of  its  evil  beauty.  He 
waved  his  hand  at  her  and  said  : 

"  You  hate  me  because  I  punished  Ballanche  for 
his  impudence."  His  lip  curled. 

"  He  and  Jackson  will  be  apt  to  remember  me," 
he  added,  after  a  moment's  pause. 

Mrs.  Vernon  hastened  to  set  some  food  for  him, 
and  he  ate  and  drank  heartily. 

Pauline  was  in  a  strange  state  of  mind.  She  felt 
irresistibly  urged  from  within  to  do  something,  she 
knew  not  what,  for  the  benefit  of  this  dark,  wicked, 
fascinating  man.  It  made  her  shudder  to  see  him, 
and  she  shrank  from  the  thought  of  his  past  life — 
knowing  now  that  he  was  Pierre  Rameau,  the  out- 
law— but  yet  some  fountain  in  her  heart  bled  for 
him,  some  center  of  sympathy  in  the  deepest 
chamber  of  her  soul  sent  forth  a  thrill  in  his  behalf. 
She  was,  to  a  degree,  like  one  in  a  dream,  albeit  she 
realized  to  the  full  the  hopelessness  of  the  desire 
that  was  forming  in  her  breast.  How  could  she  do 
anything  to  turn  this  strong  man  back  from  evil  ? 
She  remembered  that  she  had,  when  a  child,  seen 
the  officials  taking  a  young  man  to  the  scaffold  to 
be  executed.  He  was  a  mere  youth,  hard-faced  and 
repulsive  ;  but  ever  since  she  had  regretted  that 
she  could  not  go  to  him  and  show  him  that  one  of 
all  the  world  was  sorry  for  him.  Why  should  she 
recall  that  scene  at  this  moment?  The  human 
heart  beats  through  mysterious  rhythms.  We  can 
never  say  by  what  labyrinths  the  roots  of  sympathy 
travel  to  reach  their  end.  If  Pauline  could  have 
known  all  the  history  of  this  man,  she  might  have 


PRISONERS.  303 

felt  none  of  the  inexplicable  fascination  which  came 
to  her  like  a  vague  but  powerful  reminder  of  some- 
thing sadly  but  unmistakably  imperative  in  her 
nature  ;  but  she  was  aware  now  of  just  enough  to 
arouse  all  the  romance  as  well  as  all  the  pity  that 
an  inexperienced  young  girl's  heart  can  compass. 

When  Loring  arose  from  the  table  at  which  he 
had  eaten,  he  turned  to  Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes 
and  appeared  about  to  speak,  but  he  checked  him- 
self. 

"Thank  you,"  he  said  to  Mrs.  Vernon.  "I  was 
very  hungry.  I  will  now  go  to  the  British  lines,  un- 
less " — he  hesitated  just  for  a  breath — "  unless  you 
will  permit  me  to  help  you  and  the  young  ladies 
back  to  New  Orleans.  Indeed,  this  is  no  place  for 
you." 

He  had  scarcely  ceased  speaking,  when  one  of  his 
men  unceremoniously  broke  into  the  room  and  ex- 
claimed, with  blunt,  rough  vehemence  : 

"  We're  surrounded  !  The  British  are  all  around 
the  place  !" 

When  Loring's  companion  ran  in  with  the  cry, 
"  We  are  surrounded  !  The  British  are  all  around 
the  place  !"  the  ladies  were  dumbfounded.  They 
stood  like  white-faced  statues. 

Loring  did  not  appear  to  find  anything  startling 
in  the  situation. 

"  Do  not  be  alarmed,"  he  said,  shrugging  his 
shoulders  and  again  touching  Pauline's  hair  with  a 
half-playful  yet  perfectly  respectful  expression  of 
regard.  "  I  shall  not  be  long  settling  with  my  friends. 
Excuse  me  for  a  few  moments." 


304:  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

He  walked  boldly  out  through  the  front  door,  fol- 
lowed by  his  man.  As  he  passed  close  to  Mrs. 
Vernon,  he  stooped  toward  her  and  said,  with  a  ring 
of  impatience  in  his  voice  : 

"  Your  husband  must  have  been  quite  out  of  his 
senses  when  he  sent  you  ladies  out  here.  But  be 
calm.  You  shall  not  be  ill-treated." 

There  was  a  stir  out-of-doors — a  sound  of  voices. 
Some  low  commands  were  given.  Mrs.  Vernon  and 
Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes  became  hysterical,  but 
Pauline,  though  pale  as  a  ghost,  seemed  to  have 
found  ample  strength  to  bear  whatever  was  to  come. 
She  thought  she  heard  her  father's  voice  at  the 
door.  It  was  Loring  speaking  with  the  British  offi- 
cer. The  two  entered  a  moment  later. 

"  They  must  be  taken  to  some  place  where  they 
can  be  protected,"  Loring  was  saying. 

"  Certainly,  if  it  can  be  done,"  the  officer  replied. 
"  But  we  are  in  no  condition  to  take  care  of  ladies." 

"  Send  them  to  New  Orleans." 

"  No,  -sir.  That  is  against  positive  orders.  We 
are  to  permit  no  white  person  to  go  from  us  to  the 
enemy.  No  ;  we  must  take  them.  If  you  are  what 
you  claim  to  be,  the  general  will  receive  you  kindly 
and  give  the  ladies  the  best  comforts  that  he  can 
command.  That  is  alt  that  I  can  say." 

"  I  advise  you  to  treat  me  with  respect,  sir,"  said 
Loring,  very  calmly,  and  fixing  his  eyes  with  a 
malignant  stare  on  those  of  the  officer.  "  You  will 
know  more  of  me." 

"  Do  as  I  command  you  !"  exclaimed  the  sturdy 
Englishman.  "  I'm  not  to  be  bullied  by  a  prisoner  ! 


PRISONERS.  305 

Bundle  tip  these  women  and  put  them  on  your 
horses.  You  will  walk.  There's  no  time  for  talk. 
Move  along  !" 

Loring  compressed  his  lips,  but  said  not  another 
word.  He  saw  that  for  once  he  had  found  a  check 
to  his  arrogance.  He  explained  to  the  ladies  that 
all  were  prisoners  and  that  they  would  have  to  go 
to  the  British  commander's  headquarters." 

"  I  commend  you  to  the  good-will  of  Lieutenant 
Barnaby,"  he  said,  bowing  with  perfect  ease  toward 
the  officer.  "  He  feels  as  big  as  a  drum-major  at 
present." 

"  Silence,  sir,  or  I'll  have  you  gagged  in  an  in- 
stant !"  exclaimed  the  lieutenant. 

"  You  could  not  gag  a  hen!"  sneered  Loring. 

The  lieutenant  whipped  out  his  sword  ;  his  face 
was  ablaze  with  choler. 

The  ladies  began  to  shriek.  Pauline  sprang 
between  the  men.  Loring  put  her  gently  but  forci- 
bly aside  ;  then  lifted  the  lapel  of  his  coat  and  leaned 
forward. 

"Put  your  sword-point  through  that!"  he  ex- 
claimed, laying  his  finger  on  a  shining  badge  that 
covered  his  heart.  "  Thrust  away,  young  man  ! 
Thrust  away  !" 

The  face  of  the  officer  paled  as  suddenly  as  it  had 
reddened.  He  stood  as  if  faltering  for  a  moment, 
and  then  saluted. 

Loring  responded  with  lofty  indifference,  and 
turning  to  Mrs.  Vernon  bade  her  make  haste  to  go 
with  her  captors. 

"  I  will  protect  you  all,"  he  said,  turning  to  Made- 


306  THE   ZING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

moiselle  de  Sezannes.  "  You  will  be  safer  with  the 
army  than  in  New  Orleans."  After  a  moment  he 
turned  to  the  lieutenant  and  said  : 

"  Hurry  things  up,  let  us  be  off." 

It  was  a  curious  change  ;  the  prisoner  seemed  to 
be  in  command. 

"You  will  ride  my  horse,"  he  said  to  Pauline, 
taking  her  gently  by  the  arm,  "  and  I  am  going  to 
walk  along  beside  you.  Wrap  yourself  up  well,  for 
it  is  chilly  out  in  this  night  fog. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

ACROSS    THE    BATTLE-FIELD. 

After  the  great  battle  was  over,  Lieutenant  Bal- 
lanche  was  sent  by  General  Jackson  to  confer  with 
the  British  officers  regarding  the  burial  of  the  dead 
lying  so  thickly  tumbled  together  on  that  bloody 
plain.  In  the  course  of  the  interview  he  did  not 
fail  to  make  inquiries  concerning  the  captive  ladies, 
and  when  he  was  told  that  they  were  in  a  small 
country  house  not  far  from  the  battle-field,  he  felt 
his  heart  leap.  He  had  to  smother  impatience, 
however,  and  go  on  with  his  military  duties  just  as 
though  love  were  a  matter  of  subordinate  import- 
ance, and  as  if  the  burial  of  a  few  hundred  invaders 
were  of  higher  obligation  than  rescuing  a  beautiful 
and  adorable  sweetheart  from  a  situation  of  suffer- 


ACROSS   THE   BATTLE-FIELD.  307 

ing  and  danger.  A  young  man  must  be  under  good 
discipline  to  be  thus  wedded  to  military  duty  ;  but 
it  may  be  remembered  that  Andrew  Jackson  had  a 
way  of  making  every  one  about  him  regard  orders 
as  absolutely  binding  beyond  even  life  itself. 

What  set  the  terrible  sting  of  doubt  in  the  lieu- 
tenant's heart  and  made  him  chafe  through  every 
moment  of  that  seemingly  interminable  conference, 
was  the  fact  that  none  of  the  British  officers  could 
tell  him  whether  or  not  the  captives  were  still  safe 
from  harm.  All  that  they  could  say  was  to  the 
effect  that  the  ladies  had  been  kindly  treated  and 
safely  guarded  up  to  the  time  of  the  battle.  Since 
then  no  one  had  seen  them  or  heard  of  them.  And 
what  might  have  happened  during  that  wild  rush  of 
overthrow,  when  the  whole  British  army  was  torn, 
and  scattered,  and  when  the  exasperated  soldiers 
were  left  to  shift  for  themselves  without  officers  to 
restrain  them  ?  The  thought  was  one  to  chill  the 
young  man's  blood  ;  but  he  went  on  with  the  con- 
ference, his  agitation  showing  only  in  a  certain 
austerity  of  manner  which  the  British  officers  attrib- 
uted to  native  churlishness.  When  at  last  he  had 
finished  the  matter,  he  hastened  to  General  Jackson 
with  his  report. 

Mr.  Vernon  was  present  when  he  arrived  at  head- 
quarters and  had  already  asked  leave  to  go  in  search 
of  his  family.  The  old  man's  face  lighted  np 
wonderfully  when  Ballanche  told  what  he  knew. 

"  And  they  are  safe  !"  he  exclaimed,  showing 
more  passionate  excitement  than  any  one  had  ever 
witnessed  in  him  before.  "  They  told  you  that  they 


308  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

were  safe  ?"  A  singularly  beseeching  note  rang 
through  his  words. 

The  lieutenant  could  not  have  the  heart  to  tell 
him  that  there  was  a  doubt. 

General  Jackson  would  not  permit  any  precipitate 
action.  He  reminded  Mr.  Vernon  that  a  truce  was 
pending  and  that  due  formalities  must  be  observed 
in  the  matter  of  penetrating  the  British  lines  for 
any  purpose.  The  old  man  bore  the  delay  in  the 
spirit  of  a  caged  lion.  It  seemed  to  him  that  a  year 
might  have  elapsed  since  he  parted  from  his  wife 
and  daughter  ;  every  moment  now  dragged  by  like 
a  snail. 

What  added  a  peculiar  dread  to  the  situation  was 
the  thought  of  Loring,  Vasseur  and  old  man  Burns 
all  going  in  the  direction  which  might  lead  them  to 
where  Mrs.  Vernon  and  Pauline  had  been  left  by 
their  captors.  Mr.  Vernon's  whole  mind  dwelt  on 
the  fear  that  his  wife  and  daughter  might  be  told 
the  secret  of  his  past  life.  His  imagination,  which 
was  as  vigorous  and  lawless  as  his  frame  was  stal- 
wart, built  up  all  manner  of  dark  prophecies  and 
filled  him  with  forebodings  too  dreadful  for  any 
thought  to  give  them  definite  form.  He  accused 
himself  with  all  the  bitterness  of  which  self-accusa- 
tion is  possible.  Why  had  he  not  left  his  loved  ones 
at  home  where  they  would  have  been  so  safe  now  ? 
What  demon  had  possessed  him  to  send  them  (of  all 
places  in  the  world)  to  that  plantation-house  right 
in  the  path  of  the  British  army  ? 

When  at  last,  after  hours  of  delay,  all  necessary 
formalities  had  been  observed  and  everything  was 


ACROSS   THE   BATTLE-FIELD.  809 

ready,  General  Jackson  ordered  six  men  detailed  to 
accompany  Mr.  Vernon  and  Lieutenant  Ballanche 
on  their  journey  of  love. 

Old  Enos  Peevy  was  one  of  the  squad.  A  young- 
British  officer  joined  them  to  see  them  safe  to  their 
destination.  They  were  all  mounted  ;  but  three  of 
the  horses  were  to  bear  the  ladies  back  to  the 
American  lines. 

A  rough  bridge  had  been  hastily  cast  across  the 
ditch  of  death,  and  over  this  Mr.  Vernon  led  the 
way.  passing  into  the  awful  swaths  of  war's  reaping. 
Peevy  rode  beside  him,  sitting  awkwardly  but 
firmly  on  a  little  Creole  pony,  his  long,  bony  legs 
reaching  down  so  far  that  his  feet  almost  touched 
the  blood-tinged  ground.  He  was  very  much  inter- 
ested in  noting  the  condition  of  the  dead  British  as 
he  passed  along. 

"  Thar's  a  feller  'at  I  plumpted  a  hole  through," 
he  exclaimed  presently  with  great  satisfaction, 
pointing  toward  a  stalwart  Highlander  outstretched 
on  his  back.  "  I  put  it  to  'im  jes'  ez  'e  war — " 

"  Hush,  man  !"  said  Mr.  Vernon  in  an  undertone, 
"  remember  that  we  have  an  English  officer  with 
us." 

"  Oh,  tarnation  take  the  officer  !  Wat  air  I  er 
keerin'  fer  'im  ?"  grumbled  the  scout  "  I  wush  'at 
I'd  er  got  a  bead  onter  him.  Ef  I  hed  it  'd  er  ben 
good-bye  'at  Mary  Ann  'd  said  to  *im." 

If  the  English  officer  heard  vrhat  was  said  he  dis- 
creetly kept  silent. 

As  they  rode  along,  picking  their  way  between 
the  heaps  of  slain,  their  horses  stumbling  over  the 


310  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

ruts  made  by  cannon-balls,  Lieutenant  Ballanche 
looked  back  toward  the  low  breastworks  behind 
which  he  had  fought,  and  it  required  but  a  glance 
to  comprehend  the  fatal  mistake  made  by  the 
British.  The  deadly  ditch  looked  harmless  enough 
from  this  side — a  man  would  think  he  could  jump 
across  it. 

Mr.  Vernon  could  not  bear  a  moderate  pace.  As 
soon  as  they  were  well  beyond  the  first  windrow  of 
the  battle  he  urged  his  horse  to  a  canter,  then  into 
a  gallop.  Ballanche  spurred  forward  and  joined 
him.  A  mighty  impatience  was  burning  the  blood 
of  the  two  men. 

*'  How  far  is  it  yet !"  Mr.  Vernon  huskily  demand- 
ed, after  they  had  gone  beyond  the  battle-field 
proper  and  passed  through  a  stretch  of  wet,  plashy 
woods. 

"Just  yonder,  around  the  point  of  magnolias," 
was  the  almost  breathless  answer.  "  The  house  is 
behind  those  trees." 

The  old  man  leaned  forward  in  his  saddle  and 
put  his  horse  to  its  best. 

•*I  fear  that  we  shall  run  into  trouble  at  this 
rate,"  said  the  English  officer  who  had  chanced  to 
come  side  by  side  with  Enos  Peevy. 

"  Ef  we  do,"  said  the  scout,  with  a  grim  leer,  "  I'll 
-pop  you  the  fust  one.  Mary  Ann  yer,  w'at  I  hev  in 
my  han',  kinder  wants  ter  mek  yer  'quaintance  any- 
how." 

The  conversation  ended  at  once.  The  English- 
man bit  his  lip  and  drew  in  his  horse  so  as  to  fall 
behind.  Soon  enough  he  was  out  of  sight,  and  the 


ACROSS   THE   BATTLE-FIELD.  311 

Americans  saw  him  no  more.  He  was  tired  of  the 
ride. 

Mr.  Vernon  and  Lieutenant  Ballanche  were  too 
much  absorbed  in  the  thought  of  reaching  the  mag- 
nolia point  and  coming  within  view  of  the  house  to 
note  the  absence  of  the  officer  until  Peevy  called  to 
them  : 

"  Thet  air  feller  hey  snoke  off,"  he  cried,  in  his 
shrill  treble.  "  That  etarnal  orficer  air  gone  !" 

They  slackened  their  pace  to  let  him  come  up 
with  them. 

"  Let  him  go,"  said  Mr.  Vernon,  when  he  under- 
stood the  matter,  "  we  don't  need  him."  And  again 
they  spurred  on. 

Lieutenant  Ballanche  had  a  fresher,  stronger 
horse  than  the  one  that  bore  Mr.  Vernon  and  by 
the  time  that  they  had  swung  round  the  point  with 
the  little  plantation-house  full  in  view  he  was  con- 
siderably in  the  lead. 

It  was  with  an  indescribable  stifling  sensation 
that  he  leaned  over  his  saddle-horn  and  gazed 
between  straggling  orange  trees  toward  the  low 
doorway  beyond  a  broken  gate.  The  place  looked 
lonely  and  desolate  ;  it  was  a  picture  of  silence  set 
against  a  gray  background  of  wilderness. 

Mr.  Vernon  and  Ballanche  had  ridden  into  the 
enclosure  and  were  approaching  the  house.  The 
walk  or  pathway  was  narrow  and  Mr.  Vernon  was 
now  in  advance.  Suddenly  he  drew  his  horse  back 
with  such  force  that  it  almost  stood  upright  on  its 
haunches  ;  at  the  same  time  he  uttered  a  deep  ejac- 
ulation of  surprise  and  horror. 


312  THE   KING   OF   HONKY   ISLAND. 

A  man  lay  dead,  doubled  up  across  the  path  near 
the  front-door  of  the  house.  Mr.  Vernon  recog- 
nized the  face  instantly,  although  it  was  pinched 
and  distorted. 

Peevy  saw  that  something  startling  had  been  dis- 
covered and  hurried  through  the  gate. 

"  Wat  air  the  matter  now,  fellers  ?"  he  inquired. 
Then,  seeing  the  dead  body,  he  added  :  "W'y,  it  air 
thet  thar  feller  'at  went  er  cavortin' — " 

He  was  interrupted  by  a  sharp  cry  from  the 
house,  and  the  door  was  flung  wide  open. 

"  Etarnal  Jerusalem  !"  he  exclaimed.  "  Jes'  look, 
will  ye  !" 

Mr.  Vernon  and  Ballanche  were  already  looking. 
They  had  seen  many  dead  men  that  day,  had  ridden 
past  them  and  over  them,  but  this  one  demanded 
more  than  a  glance,  at  least  from  Mr.  Vernon,  who 
did  not  look  at  once,  even  when  the  voice  rang  out 
from  the  opening  door  of  the  house. 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

A   WOUNDED    LJOK. 


Meantime,  Mrs.  Vernon,  Pauline  and  Mademoiselle 
de  Sezannes  had  not  been  ill-treated  beyond  what 
the  exigencies  of  life  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of 
the  British  camp  made  inevitable.  The  command- 
ing officer  ordered  them  to  be  kept  in  the  small 


A   WOUNDED   LION.  313 

house  already  described  and  furnished  them  food 
and  a  guard.  Under  the  circumstances,  this  was 
the  best  that  he  could  do.  He  felt  that  to  send  them 
through  the  lines  would  be  a  dangerous  proceeding, 
as  he  was  relying  upon  surprising  the  Americans. 

Colonel  Loring  found  no  difficulty  in  securing  the 
favor  of  General  Keane,  and,  later,  General  Paken- 
ham  himself  recognized  him  as  one  who  had  done 
him  a  great  and  dangerous  service  years  before. 
Moreover,  Loring  brought  with  him  perfect  maps 
and  drawings  of  all  the  American  defenses  and  full 
descriptions  and  reports  of  all  the  troops  under 
Jackson  and  the  probable  order  of  their  distribu- 
tion, nor  did  he  neglect  to  exhibit,  as  if  half  by  acci- 
dent, the  newspapers  containing  the  sensational 
accounts  of  his  daring  assault  upon  General  Jack- 
son's nose.  He  volunteered  to  lead  a  reconnoiter- 
ing  party  in  the  direction  of  the  American  lines, 
and  the  result  was  a  full  confirmation  of  his  previous 
statements  regarding  the  probable  plans  of  Jackson 
for  the  defense  of  New  Orleans.  All  this  aided 
him,  but  his  personal  magnetism  went  much 
farther.  There  was  something  in  him  that  drew 
men  of  daring  and  reckless  courage  to  him  and  held 
them  there.  His  voice,  his  manner,  his  steady,  fear- 
less eyes  and  the  look  of  absolute  self-assurance 
which  seemed  to  be  the  natural  expression  of  his 
face  made  way  for  him  even  in  the  councils  of  the 
generals.  Men  of  iron  found  him  a  man  of  ada- 
mant, nor  did  they  look  through  to  the  darker  side 
of  his  being ;  men  rarely  trouble  themselves  with, 
what  is  not  most  available  in  their  fellows. 


314  THE   KINO   OF    HONEY    ISLAND. 

Loring  found  time  to  be  kind  to  the  captive 
women,  and  especially  to  Pauline  he  showed  almost 
tender  solicitude  in  seeking  her  comfort.  He  did 
not  often  enter  into  conversation  with  her,  nor  were 
his  visits  more  than  merely  formal.  Pauline,  how- 
ever, in  her  great  desire  to  know  what  was  going  on 
and  what  was  likely  to  be  the  outcome  of  the  impend- 
ing battle  watched  for  his  coming  each  day,  with  the 
hope  that  he  would  have  something  to  say  which 
would  lessen  the  strain  of  suspense. 

Day  after  day  went  by,  meantime,  with  nothing 
to  break  the  dread  monotony  or  to  soften  the  horror 
of  seeing  the  English  troops  swell  in  numbers  and 
of  hearing  the  preparation  of  an  overwhelming  col- 
umn of  attack  which  was  meant  to  sweep  the  little 
American  band  before  it  like  dry  leaves  before  a 
breeze. 

Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes  hated  Loring  more 
and  more  as  the  time  dragged  on.  She  treated  him 
with  the  cold  courtesy  of  a  scornful  politeness  when 
she  was  forced  to  accept  a  favor  at  his  hands  ;  but 
he  appeared  not  to  notice  her  mood.  His  whole 
mind  seemed  occupied  with  the  thought  of  contrib- 
uting all  that  he  could  to  insuring  the  best  disposi- 
tion and  direction  of  the  British  forces.  The  little 
and  yet  in  some  way  strangely  significant  marks  of 
attention  shown  by  him  to  Pauline  were  the  only 
signs  of  any  turning,  even  for  a  moment,  from  his 
concentrated  singleness  of  interest. 

The  house  on  which  our  attention  for  the  present 
centers  stood  at  the  edge  of  a  dark  wood  bordering 
a  swamp.  Its  front  looked  toward  the  plain  upon 


A   WOUNDED   LION.  315 

which  were  being  made  the  preparations  for  battle. 
Westward  and  not  far  away  the  muddy  current  of 
the  Mississippi  tumbled  along  darkly  behind  a  low 
levee.  It  was  a  rough  wooden  building  plainly 
furnished  and  but  recently  abandoned  in  great  haste 
by  its  owner.  Two  elderly  slave-women  were 
appointed  to  serve  the  captives. 

After  the  night-fight  already  hastily  sketched, 
Loring  came  to  the  house  and  reported  that  the 
Americans  had  shown  their  strength  and  mode  of 
warfare  and  that  now  it  would  be  an  easy  thing  to 
attack  them  in  force  and  destroy  them.  He 
appeared  somewhat  more  animated  than  Pauline 
had  ever  before  seen  him  ;  but  she  could  not  be  sure 
what  his  excitement  indicated  ;  it  may  have  been, 
she  thought  after  he  was  gone,  no  more  than  the 
after-glow  of  the  battle-spirit.  It  was  evident, 
even  to  her  inexperienced  mind,  that  the  British 
had  not  been  successful  in  the  engagement  ;  but 
when,  later  on,  the  reinforcements  landed  and 
poured  across  the  plain,  when  the  great  cannon 
went  lumbering  by,  when  the  flags  streamed  out 
and  the  thousands  of  red  uniforms  shone  in  thick 
array,  seen  in  the  distance  through  the  straggling 
orange-grove,  she  felt  that  all  hope  was  indeed  gone. 

Mrs.  Vernon  and  Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes  had 
been  despondent  and  given  over  to  moaning  and 
tears  from  the  first.  Pauline,  even  when  despair 
came,  preserved  her  composure.  Loring  noted  this 
steadfastness  of  will  in  the  girl,  and  it  seemed  to 
appeal  to  him  as  through  a  strain  of  likeness  to  his 
own  character,  strange  as  such  a  comparison  might 


316  THE   KING   OF    HONEY   ISLAND. 

be  ;  and  once,  when  Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes 
looked  at  the  two  standing  near  each  other,  she  saw, 
as  by  a  flash  of  sudden  revelation,  a  striking  resem- 
blance between  their  faces,  especially  in  the  way  of 
lengthening  and  narrowing  the  eyes  in  moments  of 
deep  feeling. 

"I  hate  you,  almost,"  she  said  to  Pauline,  when 
Loring  was  gone,  "  because  you  look  like  that 
man." 

"Look  like  him  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Vernon. 
"  What  a  horrid  jest !" 

"  It  is  horrible,  but  it  is  no  jest,"  said  Made- 
moiselle de  Sezannes,  with  emphasis.  "Just  now 
their  eyes  were  precisely  alike." 

Pauline  was  offended,  and  drew  herself  up  to  turn 
away.  The  quick  rush  of  resentment,  well  repres- 
sed though  it  was,  exemplified  the  theory  of  Made- 
moiselle de  Sezannes.  Madame  Vernon  saw  the  flat- 
tening and  leveling  of  the  beautiful  eyelids  and 
caught  the  momentary  gleam  from  the  lengthening 
eyes. 

She  started  hysterically,  and  would  have  spoken 
had  not  Loring  returned  rather  hastily  to  say  that 
the  battle  would  open  on  the  following  morning — 
this  had  just  been  determined  upon — and  that  it 
was  absolutely  necessary  for  them  to  remain  close 
shut  in  the  house  until  all  should  be  over. 

And  so  when,  in  the  small  hours  of  the  following 
night,  the  low,  wide  stir  began,  the  women  kne\r 
that  the  British  columns  were  forming  for  the  great 
assault. 

The  day  was    a  terrible  one    for    them.      They 


A   WOUNDED    LION.  317 

could  not  see  any  part  of  the  battle  ;  but  the  grind- 
ing roar  of  it  rolled  over  the  house,  which  shook  as 
if  with  an  earthquake.  It  seemed  to  them  that  they 
could  hear  the  despairing  cry  of  the  Americans  as 
they  fell  crushed  and  bleeding  under  the  victorious 
columns  of  their  enemies.  Mrs.  Vernon  clasped  the 
tiny  gold  crucifix  which  hung  at  her  throat  and 
kneeling  in  agony  prayed  and  wept.  Mademoiselle 
de  Sezannes  cast  herself  upon  a  couch  and  hid  her 
face  in  the  pillows  ;  but  Pauline  stood  at  a  front 
window  straining  her  eyes  and  ears  to  see  and  hear. 

Before  the  middle  of  the  forenoon  the  thunder 
and  the  patter  of  the  fight  gradually  ceased,  and 
soon  enough  the  broken  and  fear-crazed  columns  of 
the  British  came  wildly  straggling  back  across  the 
plain.  What  had  been  solid  walls  of  red  uniformed 
soldiers  moving  with  rhythmic  vigor  and  steadiness 
was  now  a  confused  rabble,  leaderless  and  dispersed, 
all  flying  away  from  an  imaginary  charging  column 
of  Americans. 

"  Heaven  be  praised  !"  cried  Pauline.  "  They 
are  flying !  They  are  defeated  !  They  are  driven 
back  all  wild  and  routed  !" 

She  precipitated  herself  upon  her  mother  in  an 
ecstasy  of  joy. 

Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes  sprang  up  and  ran  to 
the  window.  Off  in  the  distance,  as  she  looked 
between  the  orange  trees,  she  saw  men  bearing 
litters,  rolling  cannon,  running,  limping,  gesticulat- 
ing, assisting  wounded  comrades,  leading  horses  on 
which  lay  dead  officers — it  was  a  terrible  sight  : 
but  in  the  first  rush  of  her  realization  of  triumph 


318  THE    KINO   OF   HONEY    ISLAND, 

she  felt  no  horror  from  the  scene.  She  clasped  her 
hands  together  and  gazed  with  wide  open  tearless 
eyes. 

It  was  nearly  noon  when  the  servants  brought  in 
breakfast  ;  meantime  the  British  had  disappeared, 
and  a  great  silence  lay  upon  the  plain  and  the  woods. 
The  ladies  had  eaten  nothing  for  twenty-four  hours, 
and  now,  with  the  great  reaction  from  the  strain  of 
terrible  anxiety,  there  came  hunger.  But  food  did 
not  seem  to  attract  them  ;  they  ran  to  the  windows 
and  doors  every  minute  or  two  only  to  turn  away, 
disappointed,  from  the  desolate  scene. 

At  last,  however,  a  footfall  on  the  doorsteps  was 
accompanied  by  the  voice  of  Colonel  Loring. 

"  Miss  Pauline,  will  you  let  me  in,  please  ?"  he 
called. 

Pauline  ran  to  the  door  and  opened  it.  At  first 
she  did  not  notice  that  Loring  was  bloody.  He 
stood  quite  erect,  and  his  face  showed  no  sign  of 
suffering. 

"Come  in,"  she  cried,  "  come  in,  Colonel  Loring. 
It  is  so  good  of  you — we  are  so  frightened,  so  bewil- 
dered, so  lonely." 

She  extended  both  hands  with  the  impulse  of  her 
delight  at  the  relief  his  presence  afforded. 

He  inclined  his  hatless  head  and  smiled  in  acknowl- 
edgment of  her  greeting,  and  now  she  saw  that  both 
his  arms  hung  powerless,  dangling  and  bloody. 

"Oh,  you  are  hurt,  wounded!"  she  exclaimed. 
"  You  have  been  shot !" 

"  It  is  of  no  consequence  ;  some  light  hurts  that 


A   WOUNDED   LION.  319 

will  give  no  trouble.  Is  there  any  wine  in  the 
house  ?" 

He  came  in  with  a  firm  step  and  sat  down  in  a 
large  armed  chair. 

There  was  a  half-bottle  of  claret,  which  Pauline 
fetched.  He  drank  the  whole  of  it  thirstily. 

"  It  is  a  wonder  that  this  is  left,"  he  said,  nodding 
toward  the  empty  bottle  after  Pauline  had  poured 
the  last  drop  down  his  throat. 

"  General  Gibbs  sent  it  to  us,"  she  said. 

"  And  he  is  killed  ;  so  is  Pakenham  ;  indeed,  they 
are  all  killed  ;  the  army  is  destroyed,  it  destroyed 
itself.  What  a  set  of  dolts  they  all  were  !"  Loring 
spoke  rapidly,  but  seemingly  without  much  feeling. 

Before  he  had  finished  there  was  a  knock  at  the 
door.  Mademoiselle  de  Sezannes,  who  chanced  to 
be  nearest  it,  flung  it  open. 

Vasseur  came  in  without  ceremony  and  stood 
before  Loring,  his  face  twitching  with  the'ecstasy 
of  terrible  passion.  Immediately  he  began  to  pour 
forth  the  most  horrible  curses,  and  between  them  he 
sandwiched  what  he  knew  of  Loring's  past  history. 
It  was  a  denunciation  at  once  eloquent  and  brutal 
beyond  description.  Loring  for  once  was  unable  to 
meet  an  exigency  with  a  prompt  bar.  He  sat 
calmly  enough  ;  but  he  could  not  stop  the  current. 
Vasseur,  in  his  wild  wrath,  seeing  that  his  victim 
was  apparently  helpless,  went  with  a  rush  into  the 
revolting  details  of  the  life  which  he  and  Loring  had 
passed  together  as  outlaws  in  Spain.  They  had 
robbed  a  convent,  killing  a  nun  to  get  the  jewels 
and  precious  stones  afterward  taken  from  Vasseur 


320  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

by  Pierre  Rameau.  He  went  on  to  tell  how  Loring 
and  Pierre  Rameau  were  the  same  man,  and  how 
Margaret,  the  robber's  wife,  had  been  murdered  by 
him  in  cold  blood  because  she  sought  the  protection 
of  a  priest  to  escape  brutality. 

It  was  a  story  to  chill  the  blood  of  any  hearer, 
and  its  double  climax  was  reached  when  Vasseur 
dwelt  upon  the  whipping  that  Rameau  had  caused 
him  to  submit  to  and  the  attempt  to  murder  old 
man  Burns  in  the  wilderness  of  the  Pearl- River 
country. 

The  ladies  retreated  before  the  blasphemous 
torrent  of  mingled  confession,  denunciation  and 
profanity. 

Vasseur  spoke  so  rapidly  that  his  say  was  soon 
ended,  and  then  he  sprang  at  Loring  with  a 
dagger. 

"  Die,  Pierre  Rameau  !"  he  shrieked,  in  Creole 
patois.  "  Die  !  Die  !" 

But  Pierrre  Rameau  had  heard  such  tragic  com- 
mands before  this.  He  had  played  a  part  in  tragedy 
too  often  to  be  taken  by  surprise  and  laid  out  so 
easily. 

"  Fool  !"  was  all  that  he  said  ;  and,  rising  with 
the  promptness  of  a  steel  spring,  he  kicked  the  little 
man  through  the  open  doorway  into  the  yard. 

Vasseur  arose  from  where  he  had  fallen,  put  his 
hands  on  his  chest,  tottered  for  a  few  paces  along 
the  walk  toward  the  gate,  then  sank  down,  ail 
doubled  together,  and  lay  still. 

Pierre  Rameau  stood  gazing  at  the  crumpled  body 
for  a  moment,  and  when,  presently,  he  lifted  his 


A   WOUNDED   LION.  321 

calm,  almost  stolid  eyes,  he  saw  a  tall  form  coming 
through  the  gate. 

It  was  Burns.  The  old  man  saw  him,  and  quick- 
ened his  pace  almost  to  a  run. 

Rameau  turned  about  and  passed  through  the 
house  without  a  word.  Going  out,  he  crossed  what 
had  been  a  vegetable  garden,  kicked  some  palings 
from  a  fence,  went  through  and  was  soon  in  the 
depth  of  the  wood. 

He  was  feeling  the  effect  of  his  wounds.  Not 
only  were  both  his  arms  badly  hurt  ;  but  a  gun-shot 
rent  in  his  breast,  though  it  bled  little,  was  weaken- 
ing him  rapidly. 

Pauline  saw  him  going  away  and  ran  after  him 
entreating  him  to  return  and  have  his  hurts  cared 
for.  Something  in  his  face  had  told  her  that  he  was 
desperate,  hopeless,  and  she  felt  a  great  swell  of 
pity  for  him  rising  in  her  heart. 

She  had  not  noticed  the  fall  of  Vasseur  or  the 
approach  of  Burns.  Just  within  the  gloom  of  the 
moss-hung  forest  she  overtook  Rameau  and  sprang 
lightly  before  him. 

He  stood  still  and  looked  at  her.  A  smile  stole 
into  his  face  ;  he  tried  to  lift  a  hand  ;  but  could  only 
twitch  a  shoulder.  She  was  flushed  and  panting, 
her  lips  apart,  her  bright  hair  disheveled.  Her 
appearance  seemed  to  touch  him  with  some  deep 
emotion. 

"  My  sweet  sister,"  he  murmured,  then  as  if  shak- 
ing off  an  illusion,  he  sprang  past  her  while  she 
was  pouring  forth  entreaties,  and  fairly  ran  away 
from  her  into  the  gloomy  swamp  wood. 


322  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

Pauline  stood,  like  one  in  a  dream,  with  the  words, 
*'  ray  sweet  sister,"  ringing  strangely  as  if  from  dis- 
tance to  distance  through  her  soul. 

She  saw,  without  fairly  realizing  it,  the  tall,  gaunt 
form  of  Burns  go  by  with  long,  half-feeble,  half- 
vigorous  strides. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

A   GLIMPSE   OF   LOVE. 

That  morning  of  the  eighth  day  of  January  was  one 
of  awful  suspense  to  the  patriotic  women  of  New 
Orleans.  Everything  that  could  make  life  worth 
living  depended  upon  the  issue  of  the  fight  whose 
heavy  billows  of  sound  came  rolling  up  the  river  to 
shake  the  foundations  of  the  city. 

Madame  Souvestre,  as  she  stood  at  the  window  of 
the  chamber  in  which  Fairfax  lay,  held  one  hand 
upon  her  heart.  She  felt  it  leaping  heavily  with 
mingled  dread  and  joy.  Each  throb  was  for  the 
brave  men  battling  down  there  in  the  fog  of  morn- 
ing, and  each  throb  was  also  for  the  handsome  sol- 
dier lying  within  four  paces  of  her,  weak  and  wound- 
ed, in  her  sole  care. 

The  window-panes  jarred  with  every  palpitation 
of  the  battle-thunder.  She  turned  now  and  again 
to  look  at  Fairfax. 

"  Do  not  try  to  move,"  she  would  say ;   "  it  will 


A    GLIMPSE    OF   LOVE.  323 

hurt  you.  Be  brave  and  patient  ;  it  will  come  out 
well." 

Then  she  would  go  and  smooth  his  pillows  or 
adjust  the  snowy  spread  of  his  couch.  Her  tiny 
hands  trembled,  and  a  bright  rosy  spot  showed  under 
the  petal-like  skin  of  either  cheek. 

He  tried  to  talk  to  her  about  the  battle,  but  she 
put  one  sweet  hand  over  his  mouth  and  shook  her 
head. 

"  Listen  and  be  calm,  but  do  not  speak,"  she  com- 
manded ;  and  he  had  to  obey. 

"  Monsieur  Crapaud  Crapoussin  will  return  after  a 
while,"  she  went  on,  "and  he  will  tell  us  glorious 
news.  I  know  that  our  brave  men  are  killing  those 
British  ;  I  feel  it  in  every  drop  of  my  blood.  Hear 
how  our  guns  crash  and  roll  !" 

She  clasped  her  hands  before  her  and  stood  in  an 
attitude  of  intense,  passionate  attention  to  the 
tumbling  and  bounding  din  as  it  seemed  to  fill  all 
space  by  jars  and  throbs. 

Fairfax  gazed  at  her  through  the  crepuscular 
shadows  of  the  chamber,  and,  to  his  feverish  and 
misty  imagination,  she  appeared  to  irradiate  a 
heavenly  light,  so  that  a  pale,  tender  aureole  trem- 
bled about  her.  A  peaceful  languor  seized  him,  and 
he  slept. 

The  streets  were  deserted  and  silent,  and  as  the 
fog  grew  tenuous  and  vanished  before  the  coming 
of  the  sun,  the  cannon  roar  seemed  more  distant. 

Madame  Souvestre  wandered  around  in  the  cham- 
ber, moving  noiselessly,  covering  her  face  now  and 
again  with  her  hands. 


324:  THE    KING   OF    HONEY    ISLAND. 

Slowly  the  moments  passed.  She  looked  at  her 
jeweled  watch  ;  it  was  nine  o'clock,  and  the  guns 
had  almost  ceased  their  thunder.  Fairfax  was 
breathing  heavily,  but  his  sleep  seemed  natural. 
She  bent  over  him  and  touched  his  hair  with  a  fur- 
tive tender  movement.  How  could  he  feel  so  light 
a  stroke  on  his  loosely  tumbled  locks  ? 

"  Ah,  Pauline  ;  you  have  come  to  me  again  ! 
How  kind,  how  sweet  !"  he  murmured.  "  And  the 
battle  is  over,  and  we  shall  not  be  parted  any 
more  !" 

The  little  woman  drew  back  from  the  sleeper  and 
tured  pale  ;  then  a  hot  glow  suffused  her  cheeks. 
She  trembled  and  held  her  brow  with  both  hands. 

"  Pauline  !  Pauline  !"  she  whispered.  "  He  loves 
some  one — Pauline  !  Pauline  !  But  it  may  be  his 
sister.  Yes,  yes,  his  voice  was  so  gentle  and  calm  ; 
Pauline  is  his  sister." 

Once  more  she  cast  herself  upon  the  priedieu  and 
lifted  prayerful  eyes  to  the  Virgin. 

A  black  woman,  with  a  spotless  white  turban  on 
her  head  came  in,  carrying  a  silver  tray  with  cof- 
fee which  she  placed  on  the  table.  She  glanced 
askance  at  Madame  Souvestre,  and  then  silently 
withdrew. 

The  rich  brew  in  the  shining  pot  filled  the  room 
with  its  fragrance.  A  plump-faced  masculine  saint 
looked  down  from  a  dark  frame  on  the  wall  ;  his 
lips  appeared  ready  to  ask  for  a  cup. 

Fairfax  awoke. 

"  Pauline  !     Pauline  !"  he  gently  called. 

Madame  Souvestre  sprang  up. 


A    GLIMPSE   OF   LOVE.  325 

"  Oh  !  Ah  !"  he  murmured,  looking  at  her  inquir- 
ingly. 

"  You  have  had  a  good  sleep,"  she  remarked, 
"  and  you  look  refreshed.  Here  is  some  coffee." 

"  I  have  been  dreaming,"  he  said,  smiling  apolo- 
getically, "  and  at  first — " 

"  At  first  you  thought  Mademoiselle  Pauline  was 
here." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?" 

"  You  are  not  reserved.  You  speak  freely  when 
you  dream." 

"  Do  I  ?  Well,  it  is  all  right  if  I  did  not  disturb 
you." 

"  Disturb  me  ?  Oh,  no,  not  at  all.  I  only  heard 
you  calling  for  Mademoiselle  Pauline.  She  is  your 
sister  ?" 

"  It  was  a  most  vivid  dream.  But  the  battle  ! 
Have  you  heard  ?  Do  you  know  how  it  is  going  ?" 

"  You  do  not  hear  any  more  guns,"  she  said,  turn- 
ing to  help  him  with  his  coffee,  "  but  no  word  has 
arrived  yet.  Surely,  Monsieur  Crapoussin  will 
arrive  soon." 

She  put  one  hand  under  his  head  and  with  the 
other  held  the  cup  to  his  lips,  while  he  took  a  hearty 
draught  of  the  pungent  black  liquid. 

"  Thank  you,  madame.  That  was  delicious — the 
best  coffee  that  I  ever  tasted  ;  and  I  feel  so  much 
better.  Surely,  there  will  be  good  news.  But  what 
is  that  noise  ?" 

Madame  Souvestre  set  the  coffee  on  the  table  and 
hastened  to  the  window.  People  were  rushing 
along  the  street,  shouting,  gesticulating,  grimacing 


326  THE   KING    OF    HONEY   ISLAND. 

wildly.  Men,  women,  children,  all  appeared  to  be 
possessed  by  an  uncontrollable  excitement.  Hats 
flew  tip  into  the  air,  old  men  were  behaving  like 
boys.  She  turned  toward  Fairfax  with  a  great  light 
in  her  face  and  said  : 

"  It  is  victory  !    I  hear  them  rejoicing  !    Listen  !" 

The  tumult  increased  momentarily,  and  above  it 
all  they  heard  voices  singing  the  "  Marseillaise." 

A  servant  admitted  Crapaud  Crapoussin  whose 
left  ear  was  under  a  white  bandage  that  showed  a 
stain  of  blood. 

"  It  is  glorious  !"  cried  he,  pirouetting  across  the 
floor,  "  and  see,  I  am  wounded !  A  bullet  tore  a 
gash  in  my  ear  ;  I  shall  have  honorable  mention  ! 
But,  oh,  it  is  a  great  victory  !  We  tore  them  all  to 
rags  !" 

He  went  to  the  bedside  and  took  a  hand  of  Fairfax 
between  both  of  his. 

"  Ah,  monsieur,  the  whole  plain  down  yonder  is 
red  with  dead  British  soldiers,  and  our  army  is  not 
hurt,"  he  went  on  rapidly,  almost  out  of  breath. 

"Crapaud,"  said  Fairfax,  "go  fetch  Mademoiselle 
Pauline  Vernon  here  to  me." 

Madame  Souvestre  started  and  looked  quickly 
back  and  forth,  from  Fairfax  to  the  dwarf. 

"  Mademoiselle  Pauline  Vernon,"  she  repeated, 
with  a  confused  expression  in  her  face,  "  oh,  to  be 
sure  ;  but — "  she  hesitated. 

"  I  made  a  foolish  request,"  said  Fairfax,  quickly. 
"  Of  course  it  cannot  be  done.  Forgive  me,  I  fear 
my  strength  has  fallen  off  until  my  mind  is  weak." 

"  No,  no,  monsieur  ;  but  you  talk  too  much  ;  you 


A    GLIMPSE    OF   LOVE.  327 

must  not  do  it.  Certainly,  though,  Mademoiselle 
Vernon  can  come  to  my  house  to  see  you.  Go, 
Crapaud,  order  my  carriage  and  bring  the  made- 
moiselle here." 

She  followed  Crapaud  out  of  the  room,  and  when 
they  were  on  the  stair  she  stopped  him  and  said  : 

"  Is  Mademoiselle  Vernon  his  cousin  or  other 
kin  ?" 

"  No,  madame." 

"  Is  he  her  lover  ?" 

"  Yes,  madame." 

"Crapaud  Crapoussin,  if  you  bring  her  here,  I 
will  kill  you,  do  you  hear  ?" 

"Yes,  madame." 

She  wrung  her  hands  and  looked  down  into  the 
distorted  face  of  the  dwarf. 

"  No,  no,  Crapaud  !"  she  presently  added,  her 
voice  softening  and  the  tears  rising  in  her  eyes,  "  no, 
no,  I  am  foolish — I  do  not  mean  that —  Here  Cra- 
paud !"  She  drew  forth  her  purse  and  gave  him 
some  pieces  of  gold,  pieces  hard  to  get  in  those  days. 
"  Take  this,  and  make  haste  !  Go  bring  Made- 
moiselle Vernon.  Do  you  hear  ?  Hurry  !" 

"  But,  madame,"  said  Crapaud,  with  a  sheepish 
smile  as  he  pocketed  the  money,  "  Mademoiselle 
Vernon  is  a  prisoner  in  the  hands  of  the  British.  I 
had  to  speak  as  I  did  to  Monsieur  Fairfax,  because 
he  ought  not  to  know  that  the  mademoiselle  is  a 
prisoner.  It  would  excite  him,  kill  him,  to  know." 

Madame  Souvestre's  face  paled,  and  she  trembled 
from  head  to  foot. 

"  These  are  terrible  times,  Crapaud,"  she  faltered, 


328  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

with  a  meaningless  intonation  in  her  voice,  "  terrible 
times." 

He  saw  her  gasp  and  loose  her  balance.  He 
caught  her  in  his  sturdy  arms,  lifted  her  with  ease 
and  bore  her  up  the  steps  into  a  chamber  where  he 
laid  her  on  a  couch  ;  then  he  ran  for  her  maid  and 
sent  her  to  her  mistress. 

"  Bah  !  It  is  very  bad,"  he  muttered  to  himself, 
"  this  way  of  the  women.  It  is  always  love  and 
spasm  with  them.  Bah  !" 

He  fumbled  the  bandage  over  his  ear  and  grim- 
aced hideously  as  he  looked  at  the  blood  that  had 
oozed  out  upon  his  fingers. 

Fairfax  waited  for  what  seemed  an  age  to  him 
before  Madame  Souvestre  returned.  She  was  pale, 
but  the  smile  on  her  lips  and  the  ready  cleverness 
of  her  manner  hid  from  him  the  fact  that  she  had 
been  suffering.  He  knew  that  she  had  a  brother  in 
Jackson's  army,  a  young  fellow  just  coming  to  man- 
hood;  she  had  spoken  of  him  often,  and  he  attributed 
her  excitement  to  uneasiness  about  him. 

Crapaud  Crapoussin  returned  at  the  end  of  an 
hour  and  said  that  Pauline  was  not  at  home. 

"  She  is  very  well,  though,"  he  volunteered  to  re- 
mark, "the  servants  told  me  so." 

"  Thank  you  !  I  am  glad  you  did  not  find  her. 
I  was  half  dreaming  when  I  asked  you  to  fetch  her; 
it  was  absurd." 

Fairfax  was  looking  at  Madame  Souvestre  while 
he  spoke.  Something  in  the  depth  of  her  eye  as 
she  momentarily  returned  his  gaze  was  a  revelation; 
Jhe  felt  a  strange,  sorrowful  thrill  go  through  him, 


A    GLIMPSE   OF   LOYE.  329 

After  all,  her  kindness  to  him  had  brought  her  but 
suffering.  He  was  aware  of  this  now  ;  the  knowl- 
edge came  to  him  through  one  of  those  obscure  but 
ever  reliable  veins  of  consciousness  by  which  we  re- 
ceive all  of  the  most  precious  and  many  of  the  most 
saddening  impressions  of  life. 

Just  then  she  thought  of  her  brother.  Why  had 
she  not  inquired  about  him  of  Crapaud  Crapoussin  ? 
She  felt  guilty  and  abashed,  and  her  heart  throbbed 
painfully.  Turning  upon  the  dwarf  with  a  sudden 
flare  of  fretfulness  in  her  face,  she  demanded  : 

"Why  have  you  not  told  me  of  my  brother, 
Emile  ?" 

Crapaud's  countenance  grew  ashen-gray,  and  his 
usual  clever  glibness  forsook  him  wholly. 

"  Oh,  yes,  your  brother — your  brother  Emile  is — 
oh,  he  is  very  well  ;  yes,  he — " 

"  Monsieur  Crapoussin  !" 

"  Yes,  madame,  your  brother — '* 

"  Monsieur  !" 

"  Monsieur  Emile,  your  brother  is — " 

"Crapaud  !" 

"  Is  dead— shot— killed  !" 

Crapaud  bubbled  these  words  forth  as  if  fright- 
ened almost  out  of  his  senses. 

That  afternoon  they  brought  the  dead  soldier 
home  to  his  sister's  house  and  prepared  him  for 
burial 


AT    LAST. 

Burns,  when  he  caught  sight  of  Pierre  Rameati 
making  his  way  through  the  woods  into  the  swamp, 
rushed  after  him  with  the  energy  of  one  who  feels 
that  the  spurt  of  strength  vouchsafed  to  him  is  to 
be  short  and  final. 

The  old  man  knew  that  to  fail  now  meant  to  fail 
forever.  The  terrible  excitement,  exposure  and 
effort  of  the  past  fortnight  had  drained  the  cup  of 
his  vitality  almost  to  the  bottom.  The  fire  of 
monomaniacal  frenzy  had  burned  so  fiercely  in  his 
breast  of  late  that  his  eyes  showed  the  effect  by  a 
wild,  steadfast,  strained  stare,  not  unlike  that  of  a 
dead  man.  When  he  shambled  past  Pauline  at  the 
edge  of  the  swamp,  he  did  not  see  her,  so  intently 
was  his  gaze  set  upon  the  retreating  figure  of  the 
victim  he  longed  for. 

"  Kirk  MacCollough  !"  he  called,  and  the  name 
rasped  the  woods  like  a  file.  "  Kirk  MacCollough, 
I  am  coming  !" 

At  the  sound  of  the  voice,  the  dark  man  halted 
and  turned  about. 


AT    LAST.  331 

"  You  had  better  come  no  farther  !"  he  coolly 
said.  "  Stop  right  there  !" 

Burns  slackened  his  pace,  but  came  steadily  upon 
him,  fumbling  meantime  for  the  knife  in  his 
bosom,  his  drawn  feature  set  and  rigid. 

Rameau  retreated,  walking  slowly  backward,  fix- 
ing his  tiger-like  eyes  steadily  on  the  old  man's 
face. 

Pauline  ran  back  to  the  house  as  soon  as  Rameau 
left  her  ;  so  she  did  not  hear  the  voices  of  the  two 
men,  although  they  rang  with  strange  distinctness 
through  the  moss-hung  aisles  of  the  forest. 

"  Max  Burns,"  growled  the  outlaw,  with  a  certain 
harsh  accentuation,  "  I  do  not  wish  to  injure  you. 
Keep  off  !" 

"  Ha !  Ha !  Injure  me  !  You  cannot ;  I  am 
beyond  that.  Injury  is  already  hardened  upon  me 
like  a  mail.  Death  itself  cannot  find  a  loose  joint." 
He  was  speaking  with  the  preacher's  intonation  and 
his  words  had  a  suggestion  of  the  pulpit.  "  Though 
you  be  Satan  himself,  I  will  prevail  over  you  ! 
Yea,  now  is  your  time  come  to  die  !" 

"  You  are  crazy  !  I  pity  you  !  But  you'd  better 
stop  !"  Rameau  muttered,  still  stepping  backward 
and  watching  steadily  every  movement  that  Burns 
made. 

Both  men  were  just  then  recalling  the  scene  in 
the  Pearl-River  woods. 

"  I  will  make  sure  work  this  time  if  you  force  me 
to  it  !"  Rameau  added. 

"  This  time  you  die  !"  said  Burns. 


332  THE   KING   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

"  I  have  been  told  that  many  a  time  before,  Max 
Burns  ;  but  it  was  always  a  lie  ;  it  is  a  lie  now." 

Rameau  stopped  suddenly  as  he  spoke,  and  poised 
himself  to  kick  Burns  as  he  had  Vasseur. 

The  old  man,  with  uplifted  knife,  pressed  right 
on.  Now,  for  the  first  time,  he  saw  that  Rameau's 
arms  were  both  useless  and  that  his  clothes  were 
saturated  with  blood.  The  discovery  caused  him  to 
falter  involuntarily. 

Rameau  lifted  his  foot,  and  as  he  did  so  he  slipped 
and  fell  heavily  backward  on  the  ground,  with  one 
of  his  broken  arms  doubled  up  under  him. 

Burns  stood  glaring  at  him,  while  he  made  feeble 
efforts  to  rise.  He  had  fallen  so  that  he  could  not 
even  turn  himself  over,  and,  although  he  showed 
no  sign  of  pain,  his  torture  must  have  been  extreme. 

"  1  am  at  your  mercy.  Kill  me  and  be  done,"  he 
remarked,  with  the  old  tone  of  indifference.  "  You 
had  better  be  quick  if  you  value  revenge,  for  I  am 
bleeding  inwardly.  This  fall  has  started  the  flow." 

Burns  stooped  over  him  and  gazed  into  his  eyes. 
The  long  knife  in  the  old  man's  hand  trembled  so 
that  it  flickered  like  a  cold  ray  of  light  amid  the 
shadows  of  the  funereal  wood. 

"  You  are  losing  precious  time,"  urged  Rameau. 
"  Strike  the  coward's  blow  and  enjoy  the  assassin's 
triumph.  When  next  you  preach,  take  '  Thou  shalt 
not  kill,'  for  a  text." 

Burns  stooped  lower,  his  face  growing  livid,  his 
whole  frame  shaking  as  with  an  ague. 

"  Hypocrite  of  hypocrites,"  continued  Rameau, 
"  and  fools  of  fools  !  End  up  your  long  Christian 


AT  LAST.  383 

career  with  murdering  a  helpless  and  dying  man  ! 
What  a  lovely  thing  this  Christianity  is  !  Stab 
away,  why  don't  you  ?" 

Rameau  was  very  weak,  and  over  his  firm? 
strangely  complacent  face  was  creeping  an  ashy 
pallor. 

Burns  knelt  down  astride  of  him  and  grasped  the 
collar  of  his  coat  with  his  left  hand,  while  with  his 
right  he  slowly  lifted  the  knife.  He  did  not  strike, 
however,  but  lowered  the  weapon  and  gazed  vaguely 
around  him  and  up,  as  if  he  had  heard  something 
that  troubled  him. 

The  wood  was  strangely  silent,  save  that,- far 
aloft,  the  breeze  sighed  in  the  tree-tops. 

"Ah,  your  courage  fails  you,  does  it  ?"  Rameau 
sneered.  "  Your  dyspeptic  soul  shrinks  and  falters 
in  its  hour  of  triumph  !  Pluck  up  a  little  spirit, 
Max  Burns  ;  don't  let  your  last  grand  opportunity 
slip  away  from  you  !" 

Again  the  old  man  began  to  lift  the  knife  ;  but 
his  hand  seemed  uncontrollable.  What  was  it  over- 
head that  made  him  look  up  with  such  an  expression 
in  his  eyes  ?  His  lips  moved  dumbly. 

Rarneau's  narrow  gaze  grew  awfully  intense. 

"  You  are  to  blame  for  my  life  and  yours  !"  he 
growled  hoarsely.  "  You  are  to  blame  for  every- 
thing !  You  set  your  selfish,  hypocritical,  canting 
objections  between  Margaret  and  me  ;  poisoned  our 
lives  with  your  driveling,  sanctimonious  deceit  and 
bigotry  ;  drove  her  from  home  ;  made  a  brute  of  me, 
and  now  here  we  are  dying  together  !  Stab,  you 
cowardly  old  assassin,  stab  !" 


334  THE   KINO   OF   HONEY   ISLAND. 

If  Burns  had  heard  him,  he  gave  no  sign  ;  his  face 
was  still  upturned  and  over  his  emaciated  features 
and  into  his  sunken  eyes  had  come  a  look  of  sup- 
plication. Was  he  praying  ? 

'•  None  of  that  here  !"  exclaimed  Rameau,  noticing 
the  rapt  stare  and  the  moving  lips.  "  You  shall  not 
make  an  altar  of  me  for  your  infernal  mummery  !" 

As  he  spoke,  he  feebly  lifted  one  of  his  half- 
paralyzed  legs  and  tried  to  strike  Burns  in  the  back 
with  his  knee. 

It  was  a  futile  attempt,  and  the  exhausted  outlaw 
settled  down  with  grim  resignation  to  await  the  end, 
whatever  it  might  be. 

Burns  drew  his  left  hand,  which  had  been  clutch- 
ing Rameau *s  collar,  across  his  forehead  and  eyes, 
as  if  to  clear  his  vision,  and  looked  all  around,  then 
up  into  the  tree-tops.  One  seeing  him  would  have 
been  sure  that  the  old  man  had  heard  a  familiar 
voice  calling  him.  He  was  now  sitting  heavily  on 
Rameau's  breast  and  his  shoulders  were  collapsed. 

"  Margaret  !  Margaret !"  he  presently  cried  in  a 
strange,  far-reaching  half-whisper.  "  Did  you  call 
me,  Margaret  ?" 

"  Idiot  !"  snarled  Rameau,  in  whose  throat  the 
breath  was  rattling  ominously.  "  Can't  you  see  that 
I  am  dying  ?  You  are  going  to  lose  your  revenge 
if  you  don't  strike  soon  !  What  do  )rou  see  ?  What 
are  you  staring  at  ?" 

"Margaret !     Come  nearer,  Margaret  !" 

"  Fool,  make  haste  !" 

"  Speak,  Margaret  !     Speak  to  me  again  !" 

Burns  leaned  and  gazed  ;  the  cold  sweat  stood  on 


AT    LAST.  335 

his  wrinkled  forehead  ;  his  eyes  glowed  with  some 
inexpressible  ecstasy. 

"  Dolt !  Dotard  !  Do  the  dead  ever  speak  ? 
Your  own  selfish  stubbornness  killed  her,  not  my 
hand  ;  and  now  you  ask  her  to  speak  !  Take  your 
knife  and  strike  your  own  heart  with  it  as  you  struck 
hers  with  your — " 

Ranieau  was  speaking  rapidly,  huskily ;  his  voice 
seemed  to  flutter  in  his  throat,  when  Burns  stopped 
him  with  a  throttling  grasp. 

"  Hush  !"  cried  the  old  man.  "You  frighten  her, 
and  she  will  not  speak." 

Was  it  a  smile  or  a  swift  spasm  of  pain  that 
lighted  up  the  outlaw's  face  ?  The  breathing  of  the 
two  men  whispered  strangely  in  the  silent  wood. 

"What  is  that  on  your  breast,  Margaret?  A 
wound  ?  Oh,  my  poor  child  !  Who  did  it  ?" 

"  I  did  it  !  I  told  you  that  long  ago  !  I  did  it  !" 
gasped  Rameau. 

"  You  !  You  did  it  !"  screamed  Burns,  support- 
ing his  weight  again  on  his  knees  and  uplifting  the 
knife  with  an  arm  as  rigid  now  as  steel.  "  Kirk 
MacCollough — " 

"  Yes,  I,  Kirk  MacCollough  !" 

Once  more  the  old  man  faltered  and  listened,  his 
eyes  turning  in  every  direction.  Suddenly  he 
looked  up,  and  a  great  cry  escaped  his  lips  : 

"  Heavenly  Master — is  it  Thou  ?" 

His  face  changed  ;  it  was  like  transfiguration  ;  it 

was  illumination. 

****** 

When  Mr.  Vernon  and  Lieutenant  Ballanche  came 


336  THE   KING   OF    HONEY   ISLAND. 

upon  the  scene  of  this  last  meeting  between  Max 
Burns  and  Kirk  MacCollough,  they  found  both  men 
lying  dead. 

The  outlaw's  face  was  still  strangely  handsome, 
and  wore,  even  in  that  awful  repose,  a  trace  of  the 
old  reckless  indifference  to  consequences. 

Burns's  face  was  downward,  and  his  knife  was 
driven  to  the  hilt  in  the  damp  ground. 

Mr.  Vernon  stood  for  a  long  while  looking  at  the 
dead.  What  he  thought  has  never  been  revealed. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

CONCLUSION. 

General  Jackson,  with  the  caution  which  the  occa- 
sion demanded,  held  his  little  army  well  together 
and  did  not  relax  his  vigilance  until  he  was  sure  that 
the  British  had  abandoned  all  thought  of  further 
efforts  to  take  New  Orleans.  He  permitted  Mr.  Ver- 
non to  conduct  Mrs.  Vernon,  Pauline  and  Mademoi- 
selle de  Sezannes  to  the  city,  but  Lieutenant  Bal  - 
lanche  was  ordered,  much  to  his  chagrin,  to  remain 
with  the  army. 

Kirk  MacCollough,  old  man  Burns  and  Vasseur 
had  been  buried  temporarily  in  shallow  graves  near 
where  they  had  fallen.  Later,  Mr.  Vernon  had  all 
three  brought  to  New  Orleans  and  interred  in  a  cem- 
etery where  to  this  day  a  heavy  brick  tomb  stands 


CONCLUSION.  337 

tinder  a  spreading  oak,  and  until  recentty  its  tablet 
bore  this  simple  inscription  : 


Ci -Git 

PHILIP  LORING 
Tu&  en  Bataille  Rangte. 


A  few  years  ago,  the  walls  of  this  tomb  were 
crumbling  to  ruin  ;  but  in  1889  some  kind  hand 
restored  them  and  covered  the  whole  with  durable 
stucco.  Singularly  enough,  by  mistake,  no  doubt, 
the  inscription  slab  also  was  covered  with  this  rock- 
like  substance. 

There  was  a  tumult  of  rejoicing  which  lasted  for 
many  days  and  nights  in  New  Orleans.  Never,  per- 
haps, in  the  history  of  wars  was  there  a  battle  of 
such  consequence  that  caused  so  little  mourning  to 
the  victors.  The  killed  and  wounded  were  so  few 
that  the  face  of  sorrow  scarcely  showed  itself  amid, 
the  general  flare  of  glorification. 

The  de  Sezannes's  mansion  was  thrown  open  late 
in  January  for  a  grand  reception  to  General  Jack- 
son and  his  officers.  All  the  world  was  there,  as  the 
Creoles  expressed  it,  and,  next  to  the  grim  com- 
mander himself,  Fairfax,  who  was  able  to  attend  as 
the  only  wounded  soldier  present,  was  the  hero  of 
the  occasion,  especially  in  the  eyes  of  the  ladies. 

"  Ah,  if  I  could  have  been  touched  with  a  shot !" 


338  THB   KINO   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

exclaimed  Lieutenant  Ballanche,  as  he  joined  the 
group  that  had  gathered  around  the  pale  yet  radi- 
antly happy  young  man. 

"  But  then  we  should  not  liave  had  the  pleasure 
of  being  rescued  by  you,"  said  Pauline. 

"  Oh,  that  was  a  tame  affair  on  my  part." 

"  Tame,  indeed  !"  remarked  Mademoiselle  de 
Sezannes.  "  You  do  not  appreciate  romance." 

"  But  I  do,  mademoiselle  ;  only  the  romance  did 
not  make  me  a  man  of  note.  I  am  horribly  jealous 
of  Fairfax." 

"  And  here  I  must  sit,  like  a  cat  on  a  rug,  while 
you  dance  with  all  these  charming  ones,"  said  Fair- 
fax. "  It  is  I  who  lose  most  if  accounts  are  properly 
squared." 

Mr.  Vernon  was  present,  passing  among  the 
thronging  guests,  his  stalwart  form  and  his  massive 
head  distinguishing  him  as  one  cast  in  no  common 
mold.  He  appeared  to  have  grown  older,  and  the 
expression  of  his  face  suggested  some  inward  reserve 
of  gloom,  albeit  he  smiled  and  conversed  with  much 
of  his  accustomed  stately  vivacity.  To  him  Gen- 
eral Jackson  showed  more  marked  respect  than  to 
any  other  person  in  the  house. 

"  You  will  not  think  me  neglectful  of  your  gallant 
husband's  inestimable  services  to  me  and  the  coun- 
try, madame,"  said  the  general  to  Mrs.  Livingston, 
"  if  I  say  frankly  that  I  owe  more  to  Mr.  Vernon 
than  to  any  man  in  my  army." 

"  You  may  trust  me  not  to  misunderstand  you, 
general,"  replied  that  lady,  with  frank  earnestness. 
"  Mr.  Vernon  has  always  been  a  man  of  remarkable 


CONCLUSION.  339 

influence  and  executive  power.  My  husband  has 
often  relied  upon  him,  and  never  without  avail,  in 
matters  apparently  beyond  hope.  But  do  you 
know,"  and  she  lowered  her  voice,  "  that  he  is 
wholly  mysterious  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  confess  that  he  is  the  only  man  that  I 
ever  met  whose  motives  and  whose  character  I 
could  not  even  guess  at." 

'•  It  is  comforting  to  hear  you  say  so  ;  it  confirms 
me  in  my  romance."  She  smiled  reminiscently  and 
then  added  :  "  I  have  always  imagined  that  some 
great  secret  was  locked  in  his  breast." 

"  It  is  the  secret  of  greatness  hampered  by  some 
controlling  fate,"  said  Jackson,  half  in  seriousness, 
perhaps,  but  guided  by  his  chivalrous  impulse  to 
assist  Mrs.  Livingston  in  her  romantic  notion. 

"Do  you  know  that  his  word  is  law  with  the 
forbans  and  outlaws  ?"  she  suddenly  inquired.  "  My 
husband  says  that  he  controls  them  perfectly." 

General  Jackson  looked  at  her,  and  then,  with- 
out replying,  masked  his  face  in  an  expression  of 
impenetrable  reserve.  He  knew  that  Livingston 
himself  had  been  accused  of  standing  close  in  with 
the  Lafittes  and  other  noted  law-breakers,  and 
doubtless  he  feared  that  the  wife  of  his  friend 
might  go  too  far  with  her  disclosures.  Long 
afterward,  in  his  old  age,  he  remarked  to  a  friend 
in  Nashville  that,  at  the  time  he  was  commanding 
at  New  Orleans,  society  there  knew  no  line  of 
division  between  gentlemen  and  robbers.  "  But," 
he  added,  "  the  gentlemen  were  gentlemen  ;  the 


340  THE   KING   OF   HONEY    ISLAND. 

robbers,  patriots  ;  and  the  women  were  charming  ; 
they  were  angels,  sir — angels  !" 

The  people  thronging  the  de  Sezannes  mansion 
were,  indeed,  drawn  together  without  regard  for  fit- 
ness as  we  now  view  it,  and  little  did  certain  of  them 
dream  that  the  great  battle  over  which  they  were 
rejoicing  had  rung  the  note  of  change  and  reform  ; 
that  the  flash  of  those  guns  had  kindled  the  fire  of 
destruction  under  the  very  foundations  of  outlawry. 

It  is  true  that  Murrell  organized  his  band  of  rob- 
bers and  thieves  in  Mississippi  and  held  them 
together  for  some  years  ;  but  in  New  Orleans,  as  if 
by  a  wave  of  a  hand,  when  Mr.  Vernon  withdrew 
his  influence,  the  Chats -Huants  disappeared,  and  the 
power  of  the  Lafittes  was  broken  forever. 

The  de  Sezannes  reception  was  the  last  notable 
social  event  under  the  old  regime.  After  that,  there 
followed  disclosures  which  led  to  governmental  inves- 
tigation and  legal  procedure.  Steps  were  taken  to 
administer  the  criminal  laws  with  great  vigor  in  the 
State,  and  the  United  States  government  enforced 
its  authority  along  the  coast.  These  changes 
speedily  brought  about  a  new  social  order,  espec- 
ially in  New  Orleans,  and  the  city  at  once  took  a 
high  place  as  a  center  of  refinement,  luxury  and 
culture,  in  which  the  lines  of  division  between  the 
fit  and  the  unfit  were  drawn  with  extreme  exclu- 
siveness. 

Wilfred  Parker  made  his  last  appearance  in  New 
Orleans  society  on  the  occasion  of  Mademoiselle  de 
Sezannes's  marriage.  M.  de  Sezannes  had  insisted 
on  inviting  him,  although  Marie  offered  as  an 


CONCLUSION.  341 

objection  that  she  had  never  been  able  to  rid  her- 
self of  the  belief  that  Parker  had  stolen  her  ruby  on 
the  evening  of  the  party  at  Chateau  d'Or.  Lieuten- 
ant Ballanche  heartily  disliked  the  suave  little 
adventurer,  without  knowing  just  why  ;  but  he 
pooh-poohed  Marie's  suspicion  of  felonious  behavior. 

The  very  next  day  Parker  was  identified  as  John 
A.  Murrell,  and  with  great  difficulty  made  his  escape 
into  Mississippi.  The  crime  of  which  he  was 
accused  was  horse-stealing,  and  when  he  left  New 
Orleans,  it  was  astride  of  Ballanche's  favorite  mare 
that  he  rode  into  the  swampy  woods  and  evaded  the 
officers. 

When  Pauline  and  Fairfax  were  married,  the 
guests  at  their  wedding  were  chosen  with  a  care 
that  surprised  not  a  few  who  had  expected  to  be 
invited.  It  was  Mr.  Vernon  himself  who  had  most 
insisted  on  this  exclusiveness. 

Fairfax  had  his  drop  of  bitter  to  swallow  with  all 
his  nuptial  sweets.  On  the  day  of  his  marriage,  he 
learned  that  Madame  Souvestre  had  made  over  her 
fortune  to  the  church  and  had  retired  to  a  convent. 
He  could  in  no  wise  blame  himself  for  this,  and  yet 
he  knew  that  into  that  sweet  young  woman's  life  his 
sojourn  in  her  house  had  cast  ineradicable  sorrow. 

Mr.  Vernon  insisted  upon  having  his  children,  as 
he  now  called  Pauline  and  Fairfax,  live  at  Chateau 
d'Or,  where  they  watched  him  go  gently  down  the 
decline  of  life.  He  outlived  Mrs.  Vernon  many 
years,  and  died  at  the  age  of  ninety-one.  For  years 
before  his  death,  he  spent  much  time  at  an  old 
mahogany  desk,  writing  what  afterward  was  found 


34:2  THE   KING   OP   HONEY    ISLAND. 

to  be  both  a  will  and  a  history.  In  the  testament- 
ary part  of  the  huge  document  he  left  all  his 
property  to  his  daughter,  and  she  was  surprised  to 
find  that  a  large  part  of  the  bequest  consisted  of 
landed  estates  in  Scotland.  The  will  was  signed 
11  Thomas  MacCollough,"  and  among  the  annexed 
papers  were  all  the  directions,  facts  and  document- 
ary proofs  necessary  to  establish  the  truth  of  a 
strange  and  startling  autobiography. 

One  thing  was  left  without  a  word  of  explanation  : 
In  the  package  of  papers  was  inclosed  the  amethyst 
cross,  still  shut  in  the  old,  worn  leather  case. 

Pauline  refused  to  make  public  claim  to  the 
estates  in  Scotland  ;  but  after  her  death,  which  was 
in  1849,  her  children  offered  the  proofs  and  possess- 
ed the  property,  which  was  valued  at  nearly  a 
million  dollars. 

Fairfax  never  reached  eminence  as  an  artist. 
Indeed,  after  his  marriage,  he  made  no  more  than 
occasional  efforts  with  his  brush.  One  of  his  pic- 
tures, however,  has  been  recently  attracting  much 
attention.  By  some  means,  it  passed  from  the 
hands  of  the  friend  in  New  Orleans  to  whom  Fair- 
fax gave  it,  and  is  now  in  the  collection  of  "  Master, 
pieces  by  Obscure  Artists,"  made  by  the  late  Mar- 
quis de  Montluzin. 

The  picture  is  scarcely  more  than  a  study  of  the 
face  of  Kirk  MacCollough,  sketched  by  Fairfax  long 
before  his  marriage  and  before  he  had  proof  that 
Pierre  Rameau  and  Colonel  Loring  were  but  one 
man.  It  is,  nevertheless,  a  powerful  piece  of  work, 
in  which  is  caught  with  perfect  cunning  the  indes- 


CONCLUSION.  343 

cribable  fascination  of  the  strange  outlaw's  counten- 
ance. 

Under  it,  on  the  darkened  margin  of  the  canvas,  is 
written  in  heavy  red  letters  : 


THE  KING  OF  HONEY  ISLAND. 


THE   END. 


ECCENTRICITIES  OF  GENIUS 

By  Major  J.  B.   Pond. 


RKAD    WHAT    IB    SAID    OF    IT. 


"  It  is  distinctly  one  of  the  most  in- 
teresting books  of  the  year  from  any 
point  of  view." — Rochester  Sunday 
Herald. 

"  It  is  many  a  day  since  I  have  read 
so  fascinating  a  book  of  reminiscences. 
Many  a  day — or  perhaps  I  should 
have  said  a  '  night ' — for  this  volume 
has  given  me  delight  during  hours, 
when,  according  to  the  laws  of  nature, 
I  should  have  been  asleep." — Newell 
Dwight  Hillis. 

"  One  of  the  most  simple,  naive  and 
straightforward  books  ever  written. 
It  fairly  reeks  with  personality.  .  .  . 
No  man  living  has  had  such  interest- 
ing association  with  so  many  inter- 
esting people." — Home  Journal, 

"  Adorned  by  many  pictures,  never 
before  published." — Detroit  Journal. 

"  Possesses  unparalleled  attrac- 
tions."— Boston  Journal. 

"  Major  Pond  goes  deep  into  his 
subject,  furnishing  pen-portraits  that 
are  admirably  clear  and  graphic." — 
The  Mail  and  Express. 

''  The  whole  book,  stuffed  as  it  is 
with  anecdotes  and  extracts  from 
personal  letters,  is  marvelously  inter- 
esting."— Boston  Transcript. 


"All  the  world  loves  a  teller  of 
stories,  and  readers  will  surely  take 
approvingly  to  the  man  who  gives 
them  so  much  of  entertaining  reading 
as  is  found  in  Major  Pond's  600  pages 
of  bright  personal  description." — 
N.  Y.  Times. 

"  Shining  by  reflected  light,  its  pages 
literally  teem  with  interesting  anec- 
dotes of  many  sorts." — Chicago  Even- 
ing Post. 

"Originality  stamps  the  volume, 
copiously  illustrated  with  portraits." 
—  The  Boston  Globe. 

"  It  has  a  thousand  charms,  and"  a 
thousand  points  of  interest.  It  is  full 
of  striking  gems  of  thought,  rare  de- 
scriptions of  men  and  places;  biogra- 
phical bits  that  delight  one  by  their 
variety,  and  the  distinction  of  those 
alluded  to.  From  a  literary  view  it  is 
as  interesting  as  Disraeli's  famous 
"  Curiosities  of  Literature." — Phila- 
delphia Item. 

"If  any  more  charming  and  inter- 
esting book  has  appeared  this  season, 
it  has  not  come  to  our  notice.  The 
get-up  is  worthy  of  the  matter  of  the 
book." — Philadelphia  Evening  Tele- 
graph. 


It  is  a  handsome  octavo  volume,  5f  x  8j  inches,  of  620  pages,  with  nearly 
loo  half-tone  portrait  illustrations.  Beautifully  bound  in  English  silk  cloth, 
•with  gold  stamp  on  side,  gilt  top.  At  all  Bookstores.  $3.50. 


